Iomramhach-The voyage
by Sionnach 'Foxy' Lightfoot
Summary: I was born with an unhealthy amount of bad luck, I'm sure of it. How else can I explain why I was flung from one world where the worst that could happen is I'm late for the bus, to a place where death is following my shadow like a little lost lamb? Not to mention the fact that everything which is supposed to be make-believe suddenly walks, talks and treats me like a toddler.
1. The Water Way

Author's Note: I don't, under any circumstances, own the game World of Warcraft, its works, nor any other such related works/games/books. I make no profit from this story.

Also, please, please bear with me when it comes to updating. I'll write when I can and I'll continuously edit and re-write anything which doesn't: fit, seem correct, and is absolute **** or just doesn't seem to work in general. {This chapter took nearly a month and a half to write. I'll update when I can, and I definitely won't let this story die}.

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Chapter One: The water-way

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The harsh, hammering heat of the sun seared into my back. My arms ached in the heat. Not needing to glance down I knew from the sting that I'd been burned. Sure enough, when I looked down, an angry red coloured the already freckled skin.

I'd spent the better part of the day working out in the field. My job had been painting this ridiculously long fence. Liberal amounts of Dulux' darkest weather-resistant paint were splattered all over my clothes. My lower lip jutted out in a pout as I picked at the dried-in splotches on my patchy T-shirt.

'I probably should've worn those overalls I'd seen hanging in the garage, 'I thought as I picked at the holes in the fabric.

They would've provided some coverage, sure. However, when I'd inspected them I'd been much gladder to leave them in their dark and dusty corner. They'd been caked in dirt and the fabric had been stiff with what had smelled like sweat. Oil splatters and other fluids had stained the once dark blue to an unhealthy shade of blackish brown.

I'd shuddered to think at how long ago they'd been worn last, let alone washed. So I'd left them back to where they'd been previously and made do with what I had already.

With a roll of my shoulders I dipped my brush back into the bucket. Hopefully for the last time, I smacked it against the final post of the fence. Back and forth I swept it, taking extra care to dig the rough bristles into the cracks between the planks and under the splintering wood. It felt rather satisfying to see the sad, washed-out pallor be smothered in a coat of gloopy, chocolate coloured paint. I whistled through my teeth as I slipped back into the lulling motion of applying the colour.

With a final swipe, I placed the lid on the bucket, plonked the brush on top and let out a tired breath of relief. Gladly, I sat down for a few seconds, my legs akimbo on the parched ground below me. Reaching up, I removed my cap from my head and ran a dusty, paint-stained hand through my dark hair, which was already falling out of its ponytail.

Closing my eyes, I flopped backwards so I lay spread-eagled on the dry earth. Dust rose up in a cloud, nearly choking me. I coughed and flung a sun-reddened arm over my brow, lying for a few moments more.

'What do I have for tomorrow,' I wondered, closing my eyes and letting the sun scorch its way through my lids. 'There's that Outhouse with the leaky roof that needs fixing, the fence in the Fort Field needs more electric wire put onto it. We'll need to contact Old Mick and see about draining the new part of the bog…'

My thoughts trailed off as I relaxed in the warmth of the afternoon.

There was no sound but the harsh cacophony of crows in the beech trees at the other end of the field. The wind whispered as it swept through the leaves, bringing a momentary relief from the punishing sun.

I could feel the heaviness of sleep begin to creep up on me, slowing my thoughts and stilling my limbs. However a sudden thump behind me startled me awake. I froze, my eyes snapping open, relaxing when I saw, from the corner of my eye, a rabbit bound off somewhere to the left.

'I need to go,' I thought glumly.

My nose wrinkled as it was tickled by the stray hairs from my ponytail fluttering in the breeze. I grunted and sat up, a grimace tugging at my cheeks as I pushed myself to my feet. The miffed feeling was short-lived, however. Pride swelled in my breast as I surveyed the fruits of my hard day's labour.

'With the fence done I can move onto tackling the garden,' I thought to myself as I slogged back towards the yard.

Dust rose from the thirsty ground in the wake of my footsteps. I made my way slowly across the baked earth. The grass which had been lush and green only two weeks before had withered and died under the brutal heat from the sun.

It had come to the point where we were having to feed our cattle with hay because all other vegetation had quailed in the arid conditions.

A heatwave of this kind hadn't been seen for a good long while. My father, along with half of the country, weren't looking forward to the rest of the summer. MET Éireann had promised even more dry spells and a few storms were on their way too.

'I really hope we get a shower of some sort today,' I squinted up at the dirty grey sky, 'It'd do a world of good.'

I reached the gate leading into the yard, quickly stopping by the water trough. I nodded when I noticed it was full of water. Reaching out, I gently pushed down on the buoy which was connected to the pump and grunted in satisfaction as water trickled in from the pipe.

'Good,' I clambered over the gate, 'they haven't broken it again.'

Those bulls would be the death of me, I swear, if they're not humping the life out of the poor heifers then they're charging around like...well, bulls and destroying another part of perfectly innocent fencing.

It was only yesterday when my dad kicked me out of bed at four in the morning because the little feckers had broken out of the Bog Field and gone rampaging down the road to the Williams'.

I had the wonderful job of rounding them all up, getting stuck more than once in a bog hole, fixing the fence, nearly drowning in the French drain and to top it all off, one of the working dogs I had with me, the dopey Collie with the funny ear, decided that it was a great idea to go pheasant hunting all the way out into the undrained part of the bog. Guess who had to go and dig him out of the hole into which he'd fallen? That's right, yours truly.

On the bright side, I had it all done by breakfast.

A small 'parrup' by my ankles brought me back to the present as I set about cleaning the brush off and putting the paint back where it belonged. I squatted down and found the turpentine sitting under a rusted feeding trough and filled one of the many jars with it.

Don't ask me why we keep stuff like this under here. I tried to tidy all of it away in the old house one time where we kept the rest of the equipment, but my dad threw a thousand blue fits and so I just left the stuff back where it was.

"Hello Wixie," I greeted the green-eyed feline, tickling her behind the ears, "what are you up to?"

Her only answer was a sneeze and a bump against my hand. I smiled. She followed me as I hauled myself to my feet to put the bucket of paint into the old house. My father had no qualms whatsoever about _paint_ being stored in here.

I pushed open the rickety door, the smell of dust, onions and mould hitting me, along with another smell I associated with cold, dark places. I stood there, stock still for a few seconds, as my eyes adjusted to the cool gloom of the building.

It was a two storey house, the main room connecting to a southern and northern bedroom via two very narrow corridors. To my direct left was a doorway, now devoid of a door, leading into what would have been a sitting room. It was currently being used to store empty feed bags, old rings of barbed wire and various other junk that my dad had no wish to get rid of. Directly to my right, the narrow, steep stairs were falling apart from woodworm, decay and the weight of an old plough which was unceremoniously plonked onto it.

I stepped forwards, my feet scuffing against the cracked flagstones. I had to duck my head to avoid the onions hanging from the rafters. Beside the staircase, to the left, and covering nearly all of the kitchen wall was a huge fireplace. Stained by soot and still full of ash, both recent and ancient, we'd used it to burn rubbish before the Waste Management Regulations were implemented in 2009.

I remember watching my Nana, my mother's mother, throw all sorts onto the fire. It was especially enjoyable during the wintertime. I'd sit with a cat in my lap and she'd tell me stories in the warm, orange glow of the flames. I smiled sadly at the memory, wrapped up in a blanket of nostalgia for a moment.

The old skillet and pans still hung from the railing, just below the mantelpiece. A worn _cusheen_ chair sat looking woeful in the corner beside a table which was covered in tools thrown on willy-nilly. The paint went under said table and I turned and walked back out of the building before I started to clean the place up.

"Dad really needs to get that sorted," I grumbled to myself as I started up the weathered trail towards the house, Wixie at my heels, her tail in the air. "If he doesn't do anything about it within the year, I'm calling in a skip."

My grumpiness didn't last too long. I cheered up somewhat as I hopped over the stile and into the garden, only to feel annoyance rise up in me again at the sight of how abysmal it actually was. At the moment it looked as though the entire place hadn't been a part of a lived-in house for years. The bottom of the garden, where I was now, was supposed to be filled with small fruit bushes and a few apple trees.

The bushes were covered in dead grass, the trees were barely saplings and there was only one shrub which looked like it had been remotely taken care of but had dried and withered to nothing in the sun. Further on, I'd planted some rose bushes before I'd left for University.

That wasn't the smartest idea, considering the fact that the only one able to look after them properly, i.e. me, had up and left for Maynooth.

I felt very sad as I looked at their dead, shrivelled remains. It wasn't entirely the fault of my parents about everything dying this time. The weather was a key factor in this but they hadn't bothered to water them at all.

I felt like marching in and giving them an earful but I sighed and shook my head. Things were tense enough between all of us already that I didn't need to stir the waters any more with silly accusations.

'Besides,' I looked down, watching Wixie's black fur shimmer in the blinding sun, 'it's not like they'd do anything for me now. Not after what happened in recent months.'

I continued through the garden until I made it up to the back door. I meandered over to the boiler house to put my boots away and retrieved my worn runners. Wixie's needle-like claws dug into my shirt and pricked my skin, causing me to wince as she raced up my back to perch on my shoulder. I chuckled, scratching her under the chin, causing her to purr and nearly fall off because she went all boneless, the pleasure making her go floppy.

The dogs started barking and howling inside the minute they heard the rattle of the doorknob. I pulled it open and was nearly smothered by four huge, furry, four-legged bodies.

"Down, down!" I yelled, nearly knocked over as Boró, our wolfhound, jumped up to lick my face. "Go on!" Scruff, the terrier growled as he pulled at my shoelaces, Muffin and Floss, our Border Collies, chased each other's' tails and whined, "Out, shoo!"

They bolted off, running through the dead garden to the huge lawn out at the front of the house where they went about doing doggie things and play fighting out in the dust.

I stepped over the threshold and into the door. Wixie hopped off my shoulder and disappeared inside the house. The kitchen was dark and stuffy. No wonder, the windows were closed, as were the blinds. I coughed as I stepped in, fumbling around in the half-light to open the windows and let in some air.

My mother was stirring a massive pot of soup over the stove, most likely to be prepared for tomorrow's lunch. She glanced my way when I came in and gave me a tired smile.

"Hi there love," she said, leaving the spoon in the pot and wrapping me in a hug. "Come here and sit down, I'll get you some tea."

I shook my head at her. "No mam, you sit down. I'll put the kettle on." I peeked down the hall into the living room where I could see my younger brother, Aaron and my sister, Clíona, sitting on the couch with their heads buried in their smartphones. I felt angry at first. They probably sat there all day, not lifting a finger to help around the house. It's what they usually did, even more so now that I was trying to get on better terms with my parents. That gave me a thought.

"I think Aaron and Clíona could do with a little work, don't you mammy?"

She chuckled and sat in the wicker chair closest to the window. "Oh Aoibheann," she shook her head, knowing exactly what I was attempting, "you little scamp."

I grinned as I threw the teabags into the pot and put the kettle on the hob.

"Me? A scamp?" I put on the most innocent face I could muster, "I just thought it isn't too healthy to be sitting down doing nothing all day, y'know." Mammy looked down uncomfortably, betraying the fact that they had indeed been doing naff-all for the entire day.

"Now, now," she recovered and gave me a stern look as I started to stir the pot, "why don't you go and clean yourself off and stop stirring things up? I'll call in Clíona and have her do that."

I gasped in mock outrage, clutching my chest, "I'm not fit to stir the soup she says," I said theatrically, placing the back of my hand dramatically over my forehead, "even though I offered, so I did. Me, being out in the fields all day, come in here to help my poor auld mother and she says I'm not fit to do it." It was nice to talk with her like this. She'd been more withdrawn and clipped with me ever since I came back.

I got a tap on the back of the head. I turned around and found my mother struggling to hold back a smile.

"Would you go on," she took the spoon off me, laughter clear in her voice, "go and have your shower and I'll have dinner ready." She motioned for me to get going.

I sighed and kissed her cheek. "Don't be doing all the housework now mammy," I said softly as I walked past her to go out the door, "they'll all get used to you being Nancy." Dad was certainly used to it.

She snorted and stirred once again. It'd just reached the foot of the stairs when I heard a loud;

"Clíona! Soup! Now!"

I snickered as she passed by, the look on her face was ridiculous. She looked as if the whole world was against her for interrupting her playtime on Facebook or Snapchat or Instagram. One of those Social Media websites anyway. I hurried up the stairs before she noticed me or she'd start chewing my ear off.

I found it very amusing reading her blogs on Tumblr. I only really made an account out of pure curiosity when I learned of its notorious reputation for being absolutely nuts. I wasn't disappointed. I mused along for a while until I caught a glimpse of Clíona's blog when she left her phone on in the kitchen one day and I just couldn't resist following her.

She had one of the most angsty, whiny, bratty collection of writings that I'd ever seen in my life. Not even those ridiculous Young Adult vampire-werewolf novels could compare. From the way she portrayed her family: I was an absolute nutjob; my older sister was her idol; she hated our older brother; my younger brother she thought was a little weird but she liked him because he now hated my guts; Dad was actually pretty decent in her eyes and Mam was just the run-of-the-mill submissive housewife.

As I wandered down the hall to my bedroom to pick out my things for a shower I glanced into my older brother's room. Fionn, named for his honey-blond hair, was engrossed in a computer game of sorts. I tapped on his door frame, wanting to say hello.

He turned in his swivel chair before muttering something into his headset and putting it down on the table. I was given the biggest grin as he opened his arms for a hug.

"Evie!" He still hugged as hard as ever, "How are you? When did you get back? Did everything go okay?" He noticed the wobble in my bottom lip, frowning, he asked, "what's wrong?"

I let out a shaky breath and disengaged myself from the hug. He stood there with his arms folded, waiting for my reply. "I got medically discharged," my voice wobbled, "the first week I did my ankle in and missed half of Phase One training. They let me stay for a second chance while I waited for my ankle to heal up but..." I bit my lip, my face darkening in frustration, "I went and screwed it up, same place, same injury, in the first week, again."

"Oh Aoibheann," Fionn gave me a tentative pat on my head, "Jaysus," he let loose a disbelieving laugh, "You need to slow down, you eejit. I'll bet you were going about those exercises all bull-headed, weren't you?" He snorted when I gave him a sheepish look. "You're worse than dad sometimes."

"I am not!" I gasped, "Our dad is the meanest man in Ireland. He's got a tight arse when it comes to money and a ham-fisted approach to just about everything. I'm nothing like that!" I glared when he snickered, giving me the 'oh yes you are,' look. "I'm not," I was adamant.

Fionn leaned down, "you're as bull-headed and stubborn as the old man," he said softly, bopping my forehead with his fist as I glared at him, "that's not a bad thing, just know your limits."

I grumbled under my breath, wandering over to his swivel chair and looking blankly at his computer. I knew he was right though and I hated it. He knew me too well.

"What game is this?" I asked, fiddling with the mouse and poking a few of the keys.

"It's an MMO my friend recommended," Fionn told me, grabbing my keyboard hand before I supposedly made his character swan-dive from a cliff. "Don't touch that, he was in the perfect position, you meddling fecker!"

Woah now, I was only messing. "What the heck is it," I got a glare, " _he_ anyway?" I squinted at the screen, zooming in with the mouse wheel. Jeez, that lad looked odd. Big, blue with odd, glowing eyes and floppy Dobby ears.

"It's a Night Elf," I was told as Fionn pushed the chair back and stood in front of the screen. He folded his arms over his chest, now looking a little impatient. "You caught me in the middle of something y'know."

I craned my neck to have a peek as to what was going on in the screen behind him. I'd noticed when moving his character that a huge, big, colourful cat had been leaping around him and saying stuff in speech bubbles.

"What was it you were doing?" I questioned, spinning around in his chair, "and what's with the jumpy cat?" I cocked my head to the side, "not to mention it looks as if it's got more feathers on it than Rosie Dermot's pet parrot. What's that all about then?" I raised an eyebrow as the cat bounded into view again, "why the feck is it _purple_?" I heard Fionn let out a breath in a sigh.

"Look Aoibheann," he caught the chair, still spinning, and looked me in the eyes. He's got dad's grey eyes, whereas I got given these big green yokes. He also had, like everyone else in the family, skin that turned lovely and brown in the sun. I got landed with sunburn and freckles.

Heck, all I'd need now was curly red hair and I'd look more traditional than a Céilí dancer. Clíona looked more like Mam and dad, she had Mammy's blonde hair and Dad's brown eyes.

Aaron was the image of our father, big build, even at sixteen. He'd inherited dad's ash-blond golden curls as well. I wondered again if I was adopted. I felt so out of place to the rest of them.

I glanced back at the screen, coming out from my inner musings. The cat was sitting down and waving its paw around in a cute sort of way. I wonder if Wixie would do that.

"Aoibheann," he said again, pulling my attention back to him.

"Am I causing you trouble?" I playfully smirked, crossing my legs in the chair. "Do you want me to leave?" He nodded awkwardly, a dimple showing in his cheek as he crooked a corner of his mouth while scratching the back of his neck.

"Well..." he looked again at the computer. The cat was lying down. "I _was_ kind of in the middle of something." I could tell by the look of him that he just wanted the rest of the afternoon to himself.

"Say no more," I graciously relieved the chair of my presence, giving him a hug and heading out of the door. "We'll talk some other time, eh?"

He nodded, smiling. "Yeah, sure."

"Alright then so," I crossed the threshold and was just about to close the door when he stopped it with his hand. "What?" I asked, noting a change in his expression.

"Welcome home." He said softly, his voice warm, his eyes sincere.

Those two words nearly did me in. I trembled, all the emotion I'd bottled up over the past three days suddenly bursting from where I'd kept them pushed down. My lower lip wobbled, my eyes stung. I started to whimper as the floodgates opened.

"Oh Fionn!" I cried, throwing my arms around him, tears beginning to flow. He seemed surprised at first but gently rubbed my back as I started the waterworks.

"Shhhh," he soothed, "It's okay, it's okay," he backed up until we were sitting on his bed, the game promptly forgotten, and "It's alright. I'm here. Just let it all out." Let it out I did.

Fionn and I, we're really close. Fionn was the one who stuck by me through thick and thin. He's the one who stuck by me when I was being mercilessly bullied in school and nobody believed me. He's the one who let me sleep in his bed because I was afraid of being taken by fairies in the middle of the night, thanks to Nana's fairy stories. I would turn to Fionn when dad came home from the pub in a bad mood. He was the one who used to take the beatings for me, although he couldn't take them all.

It was Fionn who loved me and continued to love me time after time. Even when I made the decision to join the Army, and not the Irish Army, the British Army. Even when my dad blew his top that I was 'betraying my country and the sacrifices made by the Braves of 1916,' though all that pomp with remembering the rebellion was going on _last_ year. Everyone swallowed it, except for Fionn.

Fionn was the one who still treated me like Aoibheann, not some Loyalist defector like the rest of the family did. Even Mammy refused to talk to me the first week of training, not even when I told her about my ankle. When Dad heard about it his attitude was all, 'serves her right.'

So I sat there, on his bed, using his shoulder as a handkerchief. He understood completely how I felt. Dad was still treating me like dog shite, even worse than when I was a little girl, my younger siblings have swallowed all of his Nationalist-Republican propaganda and barely speak to me. Mammy still walks eggshells around me and I even caught her telling her friends, parents to some of the people I knew in school, how embarrassed she was over my choice.

I felt like I'd been kicked in the gut because _her grandfather_ had been a sergeant in the Royal Veterinary Corps during the Second World War. I'd dug up all of the info about him myself and even found out that on both sides of the family, people had served in the First and Second Wars and had been treated worse than I have. I even found a box of medals from my great grandfather which had been hidden away.

So with all that in mind and the fact that I'd been home for the past two days and nobody bothered to welcome me except for Fionn, even though he'd holed up in his bedroom the entire time, well...that kind of spoke volumes without uttering a single word.

It was nearly half an hour before my tears finally ran out. "Sorry," I rasped, wiping my eyes furiously, I'd deposited half the Fort Field on him in dust as well as the river of tears.

"Hey, no problem Evie," he grinned at me as I stood up, walking to the door again, "you sound like a crow by the way."

"Caw caw." I said, half-heartedly, "Look out, I'm the Morrigan!"

He chuckled and shooed me out the door. I felt better after that long cry and the small talk that followed. His attitude to it was basically, 'if it's what you want, go for it and I'll love you all the same.

I didn't realise how much I'd missed Fionn. It was nice seeing him again, as per usual he'd been hiding in his room on his computer but that's just what he does. If he didn't do that he'd be tearing Dad a new one for treating me like I'd gone and murdered his mother and then shat in his breakfast.

I finally managed to pick up my stuff and had a good scrub, in a cold shower, padded back to my room wrapped up in my towels and threw on a change of clothes. I liked to wear camo trousers, you know the dark, well-made multipocket kind of stuff? Mammy hates it because I apparently look androgynous but it's what I like, so there. I feel rather uncomfortable in dresses or 'girly' clothes anyway because the stuff feels so fragile.

That's exactly what I wore now. Long, dark green knee-length shorts which doubled as trousers and had loads of nifty pockets. I threw on a printed T-shirt with a wolf's face on it. My hair, I slicked back into a long plait down my back. Frustration pursed in my lips as I observed the ringlets already beginning to form at my temples as my hair dried.

I glanced at the clock on my wall. Half-past five.

'Dinner in half an hour then,' I thought to myself as I moved to my bookcase under the window and pulled out a book. I settled down on my bed and began engrossing myself in the adventures of Harry, Ron and Hermione as they went about their second year of school in Hogwarts. At least, I tried to enjoy it. I was sadly interrupted. Not halfway through the first chapter and I was jolted out of the world of the book by a loud yell from my dad.

"AOIBHEANN! GET YER ARSE DOWN HERE NOW!"

'Oh crap,' I thought, tucking the book back in its home and padding out to the staircase, 'what the Hell is it now?'

"Yeah, dad?" I tentatively called out, stopping at the top of the stairs. He stood menacingly in the hall, the light from the front door rendering him into nothing more but a hulking silhouette with his arms crossed.

"I need to have a word with you," he growled out, Mam poked her head out of the kitchen but said nothing. "Outside," I didn't move, "Now!" He barked, shocking me.

I quickly obeyed, slipping on my boots by the door and stepping out into the blinding light. I fumbled a little with my shoelaces as I put them on. Seán Kelly was not a man you'd want to keep waiting.

"What's wrong?" I asked as I stepped out onto what remained of the front lawn to meet him. The dogs were lying in the shade of the hedge by the kitchen window. I could see Mammy, Aaron and Clíona peeking out.

"I got a phone call," he spat, his red face turning even darker, "guess who it was from, eh? Them British filth come to ask about whether or not yer coming back."

I said nothing. A sinking feeling in my stomach told me I knew where this was going. I knew _exactly_ what he was going to say, and I was dreading the outcome.

"What about it?" I stuck my chin out, feeling stupidly confident. My pulse started going like a racehorse.

"What about it, she says," he took three steps towards me, looming and seething in anger, "what a fuckin' 'bout it she says! Your candidate support manager or Corporal, or whoever it was told me that you want to fucking _go back!_ " He shoved his face into mine, poking me just under my collarbone.

"What." Poke.

"The fuck." Another poke, harder this time.

"Is that?" I scowled in pain and aggression from the sharp jab.

"I _am_ going back, dad," I smacked his hand away, glaring, my voice shaky as I defended my decision once again.

"Oh no you're fuckin' _not_ ," he let out a harsh laugh, "You are staying here," he pointed to the ground, "and helping out your mother and you're going to go back to University and become a teacher."

I clenched my fists. I knew that wouldn't happen.

"No I'm not, dad," I said through my teeth. "I'm going back over to England and I'm going to become a Combat Medic. I'm going to go out and do what matters to _me._ Not what matters to you, or your friend's slimy auld son," he looked a little shocked when I mentioned that.

"What the fuck are you on about?" His left cheek started twitching. It always did that when he was nervous, or when he felt guilty.

"Oho!" I exclaimed, "Didn't know I knew that, did you?" I shook my head and smiled bitterly, "I know _everything_ dad. I wasn't going to be going to University was I? No, I was going to be married off Paddy O' Rourke and he was going to funnel money to you from _my_ earnings over the years, the ones I'd been saving from when I took a job up, just like what you had Mick's son do to me when I was working in Dublin." He shook his head in an attempt to deny it, his jaw clenched, and face turning purple. "I heard every word, Dad. I'm telling you now, it's _not happening_."

He looked absolutely furious, and guilty as well. I remembered very well when himself and John had had a few in our living room. It was by pure coincidence that I'd heard them arranging my marriage.

I was absolutely furious, but I didn't confront him immediately. I probably should have done but I was just about to leave for University then next morning. I'd wanted to do Anthropology and work in counter-terrorism.

I found out after half a year that I hated Uni, I hated my course and I really didn't feel like wasting four years of my life on something which would only end up with me working in a job I don't like. So I dropped out after Christmas, much to the surprise of my mother and the annoyance of my father and started to look elsewhere.

It was only after a talk with a very good friend of mine, Siobháin that I found a career which made me excited. She was off to join the Royal Veterinary Corps and she suggested I look into it. Not a couple of weeks later and after a few phone calls I'd driven up to Enniskillen and went through the process of Registration, followed by the wait for Phase One training in England.

My dad, who's a Republican to the core, pretty much felt betrayed by my decision. The main reason I wanted to join was to get out of the country as quickly as possible. I'd also be safe if and when they decided that the time was right for me to go and do my 'teacher training.'

"You listen to me young lady," he grabbed me by the collar of my T-shirt, "I've made a deal with John. Himself and his brother have big money to make. They've done this agreement with a Russian firm and the money's going to come in real quick," He lifted me off the ground, started to shake me, his voice raising in volume.

"You will be a good daughter and you will listen to your father!" Spittle flew onto my face. I wrinkled my nose, disgusted and terrified, "You'll marry John's son as a part of the deal. You'll do whatever he says. You'll be a good wife, just like yer mother and you'll stay in your place as a woman." He shook me at nearly every word, emphasising each demand by nearly tearing my T-shirt.

I was absolutely livid. How dare he? I'd just turned eighteen, an adult, and here he was making ludicrous demands of me. Like I was going to listen to him anymore.

'I'm an adult,' I realised, feeling the imaginary restraints put on me as a child weaken and break off, 'He has no sway over me anymore.' That thought gave me a boost in confidence. Reckless confidence but confidence nonetheless.

I was tired of being pushed around by him, tired of continuously being bullied, shamed, and made to feel unloved by this brute of a man. This time I was going to end it.

"Get your hands off me now you chauvinistic pig," I snarled, my face contorted with rage. "I'd rather get blown up by a landmine than marry that twat. I'd rather drown in the bog before I do anything you've just told me. What century are you living in?!" I forced him to release me.

He yelled in pain as I twisted his wrists, stumbling slightly when I dropped to the ground.

"It's 2017 dad." How did he think he could get me to do that sort of crap? "It's not the Seventies anymore, or the Eighties or even the fecking Nineties. There's no more of that arranged marriage bullshit going on anymore. I'm a free woman. You have no rights over me. I'm not doing it and that's final!"

A vein popped in his forehead. He looked ready to lay into me. I cowered slightly, ducking my head and waiting for the rain of blows but they never came. I looked up from my crouched stance, expecting punishment any moment now but he just stood there for the longest time. Finally he nodded to himself, seeming to come to a conclusion.

"Get out." He said simply, turning to go back into the house.

"What?" I frowned. My head spun in confusion.

"Out!" He bellowed, swinging his arm wide and mentioning down the drive to the road beyond. "I don't want a filthy Loyalist whore like you, not under my roof. I don't know who you are, or what you've done to my daughter but I know for sure that she wouldn't treat me like this!"

"Are you sure of that?" I spat vehemently, "I have a good mind that if she really wanted to, she'd have treated you a lot worse. It's a good thing I'm your daughter then isn't it?"

"Yer no daughter of mine!" He snarled, "You're no longer a part of this family. If I so much as find a hair of yours around here, I'm calling the Guards on ya and have them deal with you. You're not to communicate with anyone. If I so much as find out you've been talking to Fionn, I'll have him out of the house and out of his Masters." With that he slammed the door in my face. I heard the lock click shut. The sound was very final.

I stood in shock for a couple of seconds before a fierce anger replaced it. Furious, I marched up to the door, opened the letterbox and screamed into the hallway. I knew they'd all be listening.

"You don't want a Loyalist do you?" I yelled, tears rolling down my cheeks, "Well I don't want a fecking Republican terrorist like you! If I never had you as a father I'd be more than happy. You can all go to Hell for all I care. I hate you! I'm glad to leave this hypocritical, toxic house. Good riddance to the lot of ye!"

I turned around, hurrying down the driveway, past the jeep to where my beaten-looking Land Rover Defender was parked. I fumbled for the keys, realising that they were up in my room and not in my pocket. I was also without a purse, clothes or any means to look after myself.

'Well done Aoibheann,' I mocked to myself as realisation dawned on me, 'you're in a right mess now, aren't you?'

"Fuck!" I yelled, kicking the tyre, "Brilliant! Awesome! Wonderful, fecking, argggh!" I slammed a hand against the door, breathing heavily, trying to calm myself down. No doubt the goons were still watching from the kitchen.

The front door opened again and I heard a thump. I looked back and saw someone had dumped my rucksack out by the front door. I slogged over and picked it up. It was full. With the zip open I could see it had been filled with my wallet, keys, underwear, and heck, all of the things I'd bring with me to go travelling. My Passport was there along with travel-size wash stuff.

A letter was tucked into the back pocket. I didn't want to read it.

'Looks like this has been coming for a while,' I thought darkly as I went back to my car and started her up. 'He probably wanted to boot me out the door as soon as I got back from England.'

I could feel a wave of hysteria building up in the back if my mind. I really didn't want to have to deal with it now. My best bet was to just get moving and settle down for a few days to just let it all out. I found I hated my dad, I really did. This was the last straw. I didn't care of I never saw him again, but Fionn, poor Fionn.

My chest was seething with anger, sadness and disbelief as I pulled down and out of the drive. I felt like something toxic was nesting in my ribcage, making every breath and heartbeat hurt. Unbidden, tears made their way down my cheeks for the third time that day.

As with a lot of things in this country, it all really boils down to who you know if you want to get by. Unfortunately, my dad is brilliant pals with one of the higher-ups in Fionn's University. What's more, he's owed a favour from the guy and if Fionn so much as toes the line, Bang! No Masters, no money, no jobs either because I can bet my buttons that he'd have all sorts of unsavoury things said about him to prevent him from working anywhere.

'Feck this,' I thought miserably as I turned onto the main road, making a last glance at the house from my rear-view mirror, 'I'll just deal with it, like I always have then. Who needs family anyhow? I certainly don't. Fuck the lot of them!'

I left in a cloud of dust. I had no idea where to go, I just turned on the main road and headed for the Motorway. After an hour's worth of driving and crying I pulled over just outside of Carlow and realised where I was headed. I'd subconsciously been making my way to my grandparents' house in Wicklow, even though I'd thought to myself that I was fine on my own.

I just really needed someone to talk to, who'd understand. I really needed someone in my family, apart from Fionn, who didn't think I was the lowest scum on earth. I decided to phone them up to at least let them know I was coming. If they refused to see me too I have no idea what I was to do. Well, I did, but I didn't want to go near there for now.

I rang the number, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel as I watched people filter in and out of the pub in front of which I'd just parked. When the person on the other end finally picked up I felt alarm bells go off.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end was none other than that of my older sister, Gráinne.

"Gráinne, hi," I replied, trying and failing to not sound surprised, "are Nana or Granddad nearby? Could I speak to them please?" My voice was slightly wobbly. I was doing my level best to withhold the shock of the past few hours.

There was silence for a moment before she answered in a clipped tone filled with ice, "Nana and Granddad are _dead,_ Aoibheann. Don't joke around like this, it's sick."

I felt like someone had punched me in the gut and was playing around with my insides. "They-they're dead...?" I hadn't even gone to the funeral. Nobody had told me anything, not even Fionn...

"You weren't at the funeral?" She sounded surprised and confused in the genuine shock and misery in my voice. "Oi, Aoibheann, Evie, answer me. Were you at the funeral?"

I hung up. Tears once more tracked down my face. My head hit back against the headrest. I choked back a wail as I realised I had nobody left to turn to. Gráinne hated my guts and had a long-standing grudge against me because she thought I'd stolen her boyfriend back in Second Year in Secondary School.

As ridiculous as it was, she never forgave me for it even though it was Saoirse FitzHarris who was caught in the act with him. Because she had been one of my 'friends' I should have known about it. Saoirse had been on my blacklist for other reasons.

It cut me deeply that not even poor Fionn could help me either his one, and even if he could I didn't want him in dad's bad books. He can't afford to not do his Master's because dad has a beef with me.

'I wasn't even invited to the _funeral,'_ that thought, that simple, seemingly small thing of which I just couldn't let go. 'Not even Fionn told me.'

That hurt the most. Even though my dad hated me for my decisions, he had no right whatsoever to keep me from honouring and mourning for two people who'd been very dear to my heart. I sat there, becoming more and more depressed as I tried to consider my options. I could get a part-time job while I waited for my Candidate Support Manager to put me through the system again, do as Dad said and go back to England.

I could go for an Apprenticeship and go on from there, something I'd thought of as a fall-back. I could just sit here and cry like a little girl or I could find somewhere to stay for the next few days while I sorted things out.

I nodded, sniffling. That sounded better than sitting here and bawling over nothing. I couldn't let the hysteria and the crying and the wailing run rampant. I _needed_ somewhere to settle for a week or so as well as a means of income and a place to stay.

I sat up straight. A crucial thought had just occurred to me.

'How much money do I have in my bank account?' I asked myself suddenly, my heart rate picking up.

I retrieved my phone from my bag, unlocking it and signing into the free Wi-Fi from the pub. I signed into my bank, tapping my fingers in agitation as I waited for the page to load. When it did load I eagerly checked my balance only to feel dread seep through my veins like poisonous ice.

0.00 euro. I had been wiped clean.

My hand clenched around my phone, fury coursing through my veins. I bared my teeth, my breath coming in and out in harsh, strangled gasps. I desperately dug through my bag to get my purse, nearly tearing it apart as I looked for whatever money I still had left in there. I choked in relief when I saw a wad of cash hidden in one of the secret zips.

'Thank you Fionn,' I thought as I sagged against the chair, my head spinning. 'Someone still loves me, I hope.'

I set off again, heading for Carlow as the day came to a close, the sky darkening with ominous looking clouds that matched my mood. I drove for another fifteen minutes before I came onto the tricky part of the road, full of blind bends and about as wide as one large car.

It started to rain, becoming even darker. Looks like MET Éireann were wrong for once. Today was supposed to be a scorcher, from beginning to end. The first few drops splattered against the windscreen, so I turned the wipers on. Then came a bright flash, followed by a low, vibrating rumble. I was caught in a fecking thunderstorm.

'Brilliant,' I clenched my right hand around the steering wheel, my left hand furiously working the gearstick, 'just what I needed on the worst effing road in the county.'

The road was becoming more slippery by the minute as the rain came down in sheets, not to mention my immediate visibility was dwindling rapidly. I slowed down for the turns, attempting desperately to not skid or slip. I then tried putting my lights on, which did absolutely nothing for me. I couldn't see a blasted thing.

My least favourite part of the road came up; a sharp bend over a ridiculously low humpback bridge which was plonked right over a river prone to flash-flooding. Oh, things were looking so brilliant for me right now. I felt like crying again.

"It's alright," I told myself, easing into the turn, "see? That's not so ba-"

Bright lights, a slam, crunching metal and I was suddenly weightless. My whole world tumbled.

Some gobshite had just hit me and now I was careening off of the bridge and straight into the roaring water below. Water which was very deep and very dark and very, very fast.

I impacted with a dull thud. My airbag had popped the moment I got hit by that truck and I could barely move. The interior of the Defender was rapidly filling up with water. I realised it had tipped as it fell in and the driver's side was currently resting on the riverbed.

The passenger window, already etched in lacy fissures from being hit, started to crack under the pressure. Another crack, then another wended its way across the glass until it fell inwards under the strain and I got a faceful of icy, murky water.

'Not good, not good,' my mind babbled in panic as I fumbled to undo my seatbelt. It released. The interior was almost full to capacity. I had to get out _now_. With a sob, I drew in as deep a breath as I could and forced my way out of the shattered window. A sharp pain stabbed me in the middle when I hauled myself out into the roaring river. It throbbed in time with my pulse.

'Fuck'- was the only thing I could think of as I slipped into the water. There was glass stuck just under the waistband of my shorts. 'Ow!'

Up and up I swam, struggling against the current which wanted to whisk me away downriver. I struggled, blinded by the water, flailing around and trying to keep my head in the air. Coughing and spluttering as I bobbed along, I followed the current In spite of all my attempts to swim against it.

I floundered, aiming for the riverbank, hoping to pull myself up onto one of the roots hanging down into the water. I didn't see the gaping hole under the tree, nor did I anticipate the water rushing down into its depths. Suddenly realising my mistake, I made a grab for the root, my hand slipping on the moss-covered wood and down, down into the dark I went.

My vision filled with black. The scream of terror which was torn from me was drowned out by the angry roar of the water and my own desperate heartbeat.

My arms and legs flailed about wildly as I plummeted through the darkness. The shadows were so thick they almost had a weight to them. It was like they were pushing my down, faster, and trying to suffocate me.

The roar of water was replaced by the air rushing past me in the wake of my fall, an icy keening which chilled me to the bone. Strands of hair pulled themselves free from my plait in the raging gusts and began to whip around my head like a nest of angry vipers.

I wailed with the wind, sobbing and howling like a banshee, my mind running around itself in circles from terror. As I tumbled, I had only one certain thought in my head.

'I'm going to die.'

"Oh please God," I cried out into the abyss, "Please I don't want to die! Please, let me have a chance to turn my life around. Let me do some good for the world."

I don't know how long it was I fell. It felt like hours when it could have been mere minutes. The only thoughts I had in my mind were of what my demise might entail. Were there sharp rocks at the bottom? Would I die instantly? Would it be a case of prolonged suffering as I lay broken on the bottom of the pit? My tears were ripped from my eyes and flung out into the oily blackness as I continued my plummet. I hated being blinded and flung about, helpless, like a ragdoll.

'What if there's no end to this at all?' I feared, tumbling and spinning, 'What if I'm stuck falling deeper and deeper into the earth for so long, I eventually starve to death?'

Half an hour seemed to have passed and I felt ready to give up completely. I was frozen with cold from the wind, completely blind from the shadows, my mind was numb with terror and I was utterly at the mercy of this sudden abyss.

"Please," I screamed out, pleading, curling into myself as I kept on falling, "Please just let it end quickly. Please, let me out of this dark hole. I don't want to die. I still have…I still…" I thought of my family and the last things I said to them, especially my father.

I howled, crying, shame joining the fear sweeping through me, "I need to say sorry to my dad! I need to tell him I still love him, all of them. God Almighty, if I ever see the light of day again I swear on my soul I'll do everything I can to make things right."

My body curled in on itself even more, wracked with shivers from the chilling gusts slicing through me like knives. I wrapped my arms around my head, cradling it and huddling into myself even more in attempt to find some semblance of comfort. What happened next nearly killed me.

With no warning, no premonition whatsoever, I stopped falling, only to collide with an unseen body of water. Shock woke me up from my misery, as well as the frigid liquid into which I was currently sinking.

My mouth opened to scream again, only to fill up with rancid, choking water. My cry was swallowed by bubbles of my life-giving oxygen rising away from me to the surface. I floated stock still for a few seconds, my brain kicking into gear, before forcing myself to strike towards the surface.

I heaved in a breath as my head broke the skin of the water, gasping and flailing as I worked my limbs in an attempt to not sink. I spat, trying to dislodge my hair in my mouth and over my eyes.

With one hand I slicked it back over my forehead and opened my eyes wide, desperately searching for a break in the shadows, a glimmer of light, _anything_ to help me get out of this God-forsaken hole. I spun myself around and around, anxiety stabbing its way through my chest and clenching around my throat when I continued to find nothing.

Nope, still blind.

"Ah come on!" I exclaimed into the nothing, my voice echoing around me. Was I in a cavern of sorts?

I stiffened up suddenly, hope washing over me when I heard something. Faintly, over the sound of my own splashing, I could hear running water.

That could mean one of two things; there was either a miniscule waterfall somewhere, or stream, or there was water flowing out of the cavern and, hopefully, outside.

'Maybe there's a hole I can crawl through,' I thought.

Moving my head back and forth, I strained my ears, ignoring the sounds I was making and focusing entirely on the area just ahead and to the right of me.

'There!'

I turned my body so I was facing the source of the noise and struck out with a wobbly front crawl, keeping my head above the water. I stopped after a couple of strokes and floated, listening again. Once I heard the trickle again I orientated myself towards it and struck out once more, swimming sluggishly, a slim hope the only thing keeping me going.

I continued like that for nine, maybe ten more pauses and swims, until I eventually felt so exhausted that I wanted nothing more than to let everything go and sink to the depths of this foul-smelling pool. After the twelfth stop, I began once again, only to feel something brush the tip of my boot as I straightened up.

I jolted, images of squirmy, grabby monsters hiding in the water coming to mind. My brain babbled in a panic, reminding me that exhaustion, cold and the fact that I was far slower in the water wouldn't be of any benefit to me if it came down to a fight.

"There's nothing there," I whispered brokenly, relief hitting me, making me want to cry. I gingerly reached down with my right foot.

I touched something again. Biting my lip, I squeezed my eyes shut as I stretched even further, wiggling my toe inside my boot and putting more pressure onto whatever it was that was below me. It was very, very solid to the touch.

'Rocks?' I thought to myself as I half-swam, half-flopped forwards a little more.

My feet grazed the surface of the hard, rough object, gaining enough purchase on the material that I was able to stand with my head just above the water, leaving the rest of my body up to the bottom of my chin submerged. The small flicker of hope within me began to grow a little brighter as I half-walked, half-floated, becoming more and more excited as the depth decreased.

I still had no idea what I was doing or where I was going, but if I could get out of the water at least I wouldn't have to worry about drowning from exhaustion.

My legs wobbled when they lost their aqueous support, nearly buckling underneath me as I shakily skittered forwards from the water's icy, rancid grip. My arms immediately rose up and stretched outwards, blindly fumbling as I shuffled, the scuffing sound from my boots echoing around what appeared to be a cavern.

I could tell from the sound that it must have been enormous, not just from the sound of my footsteps but from the fact that I could still hear the trickling water, only to realise that I still had a long way to go yet.

I craned my neck, my head moving right to left like an animal, honing in on the sound. I was beginning to shiver violently, not only because of the chill from the frigid air but there was a certain feeling of…wrongness. Maybe it was just the smell of the place, or that weird, weighty feeling.

Now that I was out of the water I could better pick out the stale, chilling tang which clung to the back of my throat. It smelled old, musty and, well, _bad_.

It reminded me of when my friends and I snuck up to Leap Castle, reputedly the most haunted castle in Western Europe. We'd managed to slip in through a crack in the wall and had ended up in the Oubliette. That same smell, accompanied by a heavy, malevolent presence had caused us to giggle and joke about at first.

We'd pantomimed being thrown down into the dungeon and impaled on the spike. The more we'd done it, the heavier the presence became until it was almost suffocating. It was after Robbie Doyle had joked about wanting to see the so-called ghosts that the smell had materialised.

Mould, rot and sulphur. Just like in this pitch-black cavern.

'This place is giving me the creeps,' I shuddered, wanting nothing more than to get out of here.

I fumbled around in the dark, treading carefully, trying to make as little a disturbance as I possibly could. Just when it felt like I was going to be forever damned to wander in the silent depths, I saw the faintest glimmer of light up ahead. My pulse quickened, newfound hope sending fresh energy coursing through me.

I picked up my steps, not caring that my footfalls echoed off the darkness, alerting anything, imaginary or real to my presence. I began to jog, speeding towards the brightness, joy leaping in my breast, as well as relief when I saw the tunnel illuminated by the light.

I was so close, I could see the star-studded sky, and I could almost hear the soft sounds of night-life, smell the freshness in the air. Just as I was about to leap out into freedom I was cruelly grabbed by my right arm and yanked back against something hard, what seemed to be a thick iron band wrapping around my midsection.

"Noooooo!" I screeched, struggling, frenzied, "Let go! Let GO! LET GOOOOOOO!"

A harsh, gravelly voice snapped in my ear, followed by a huge hand clamping over my mouth. We were moved back. Away from the light, into the dark again.

I didn't want to be in the dark. I wanted to get out. I HAD to get out. My breath whistled through my nose as I wriggled and squirmed even more. All that did was cause the person's hold to tighten on me and I was rebuked again with a harsh growl in a foreign tongue.

I couldn't understand a word that was said but the tone of voice sounded angry. Why were they angry? I was the one who should be mad. I'm the one caught here.

"Mmmmmpf."I said.

My hands clamped around the iron bar encircling my middle. The iron bar turned out to be an arm. A ridiculously strong arm. My hands shook with my attempts to move it but it wouldn't budge. I punched the forearm hard in frustration.

"Let me go!" I said, the words coming out all mushed. 'Meh ee mo,' was what I actually uttered.

No response from my captor.

I tried to bite the hand over my mouth. When that failed I attempted to drive my heel backwards into my captor's shins. The only problem was I didn't know where their shins _were_.

I huffed, wriggling, only to have the arm around my waist tighten even more. I let out a squeal, muffled by the fleshy muzzle and started ramming my elbows behind me in the vain hopes that I'd hit whoever was holding me hostage.

The unknown figure behind me let out a grunt when one of my weaponised elbows managed to connect. I squawked in shock at the sudden pain when I hit something hard and rough enough that I grazed the skin of my funny bone and my lower right arm went numb.

I snarled in frustration as the thing-person-whatever behind me let out a laugh at my squawk. It resonated through my back, making me feel frightened and… odd. I shivered, partly from cold and the weird feeling.

Realising that, after another struggle, there was no way I was going anywhere, I slumped back against the person holding me. Their grip relaxed slightly when I didn't move for a few seconds. An idea sparked in my head. I relaxed even more, going into a near boneless state, as if I was completely exhausted and all the fight had gone out of me.

To my excitement the arm constricting me loosened even more. Thank you, "Skulduggery Pleasant." I'd learned more self-defence from the highly descriptive action sequences in those books than in the one class we had in school.

'A little more,' I let myself flop, becoming a dead weight, 'nearly there…..now!'

I forced myself to move quickly, shoving the arm away from my stomach and ducking under the hand which had muffled me. With whatever energy I could muster, I threw myself forwards and away from my captor, lunging towards the light. I smirked slightly at the surprised yell behind me.

'Yes!' I thought, nearing the entrance of the tunnel, 'I'm nearly there.'

A hulking shadow fell over me just as I was about to step over the threshold of the tunnel and out into the night. I stuttered to a stop, fear stabbing my veins with ice, paralysing me. Before me was a creature of nightmare, a creature more suited to Dante's "Inferno" than the real-life, waking world.

It was at least eight feet tall and built like a brick shithouse. A red-skinned, satanic brick shithouse.

Large, heavy horns curled over a harsh, evil-looking face. The eyes, a bright emerald green, appeared to burn as if on fire. On closer inspection they _were_ fire. Tentacle-looking tendrils protruded from its chin and jaw, decorated with rings. A spiked, heavy tail swayed languidly behind it. It was clothed in what were once rich, decorative metal and cloth robes, now turned dark and decayed with age.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," I breathed, barely able to get a word out from the terror seizing my body.

I crossed myself, slowly backing away and began to pray. There was no doubt in my mind that the creature in front of me was a demon. It made a surprised sound when it noticed me, stepping forwards, causing me to squeak at the sharp clomping that its hooves made.

The demon frowned as it noticed me. The intent stare morphed into a sadistic grin when it realised my frantic muttering was fevered prayer. I shuddered at the fangs peeking out from the cracked lips in its ruddy face.

'Oh please God,' I spluttered internally, continuing my fevered prayers, 'I don't want to go to Hell. Please, please I'll do anything, please don't send me there! Please, leave me alone, go away, _oh please, GO AWAY_ '

I tripped, falling backwards onto my arse, my voice going up about three octaves. My breath hitched, panic rising up in my breast and brain as the demon laughed, a guttural sound and raised a hand. It continued to move forwards, slowly, as if taking pleasure in seeing me skitter backwards in the dirt in a fear-fuelled mess. I continued to pray, desperation and blind faith kept me hoping that I would be saved, that God would send help for me.

A bright green almost liquid ball of energy began to form in its hand, growing in size and intensity. With a flick of its wrist, it flung the orb at me, missing me by inches. I screamed, flinching.

"Oh Lord," I whimpered, nearly wetting myself in terror, "Where are you when I need you? How many times have I prayed to you, been true to you? Why are you keeping my guardian angel from helping me? What did I do to deserve this?"

The dark, malicious laugh rolled over me as I hunched over myself, my body curled up with my arms above my head, like I was preparing for a bomb to be dropped on me. I shivered, beginning to cry, fully convinced that this creature, this awful thing would at any minute, pick me up by the scruff of the neck and throw me into the depths of Hell.

I heard the clip-clop of its feet move towards me, I felt the power gather up in its hand again. The crackle of its energy had goosebumps prickling all over my skin. I sobbed, waiting for either the death blow, or the journey to damnation.

Neither came. I instead heard a fierce, savage yell behind me, followed by a guttural howl from the thing in front. More yelling and snarling followed as well as the unmistakable sound of metal upon metal. I gingerly raised my head from under my arms. The sight that greeted me filled me with a mixture of pure, unadulterated fear and bewilderment.

The demon fell, dead, to the ground. The creature that killed it stood, wrenching its weapons from the hulking corpse with such force that its heavy corpse lifted from the ground only, to fall back with a hollow thud. It sheathed its blades on its back and stared down at me huddled on the floor.

A powerful, menacing figure was outlined in the moonlight at the entrance to the tunnel. I could have made a guess, but by my reckoning he, far too bulky to be a she, stood a good seven feet tall.

The mesmerising, glowing tattoos etched into his torso and the blindfolded face, barely concealing the lime-coloured fire in its eyes, sent more unease through me when I realised that though this thing had saved my life, it was made of the same as what the demon was.

I stiffened, flinching slightly when he walked forwards, his bare feet barely making a sound on the rough stone floor. He looked at my face, sighing somewhat when he noticed the undiluted terror in my eyes. I cringed, shying away from him when he offered a clawed hand, the gesture meant to be kind, but only made me want to run.

"Please, please don't hurt me," I whispered, quivering, "I promise I won't do anything to you, so please don't, dont do anything to me."

His blank stare was enough to convey that he hadn't the faintest idea what I was saying. He crouched down before me, causing me to jump and gasp at the sudden closeness. I froze, my gaze caught on his concealed eyes. His mouth opened, a rasped, harsh voice coming out, the raised tone at the end of his sentence indicated a question.

I frowned in recognition. I'd heard this voice before. Annoyance then incredulity painted themselves across my face and I raised an accusing finger at him, my fear momentarily forgotten.

"You." I stated, nearly poking him in the chest at his confused glance, "You're the eejit who grabbed me in the tunnel." I let out an angry huff, my hands clenching into fists. "You fecking, what the heck was your problem?"

I was overcome with a sudden wave of aggression. My fists connected with his bare torso, hammering into him. He let out a shocked yelp which turned rapidly into a slew of unintelligible words in that horrid voice of his.

My fists were immediately halted when he grabbed onto my wrists. His face, ominous before, was made even more threatening from the snarl which contorted its features. He spat a line of dialogue at me, shaking me before releasing me with such a force I was nearly flung onto my back.

I sat on my heels as I attempted to steady myself, shocked. Dumbly I watched as the figure fluidly got to his feet and exited the cave without either another glance in my direction or another word.

What had come over me? Scary-looking or not, you don't just start laying into someone like that without good reason. I didn't even have one to begin with seeing as the fact that he held me captive for all of half a minute was insignificant. He immediately saved my life afterwards.

'I need to apologise,' I was disgusted with my behaviour, 'evil-looking or not, I owe him.' A thought then dawned on me. Had my prayers been answered? 'They do say God works in mysterious ways….' I slapped a palm to my face, realisation hitting me harder than a Kilkenny _sliotar_.

"Hells bells," I choked, aghast, "I just beat up my Guardian Angel!"

I stood shakily, looking around only to notice that he'd disappeared from sight. Panicked, I hobbled towards the entrance to the tunnel, exhaustion and stress from the past few hours finally catching up with me. I caught sight of him, walking along a cobblestone path, illuminated by the moonlight so bright it was like a mystical, silvery daytime.

"Hey," I called out to him, stumbling out into the light, not noticing the soft, springy grass, nor the sweet scent of heather and honeysuckle which wreathed the soft night air, "Hey, 'scuse me. Oi, I need to tell you something," I scowled when I didn't get a reaction. Cupping my hands around my mouth I yelled, "HEY!"

He paused, turning around. I could see him much better in the full light of the moon than when he was silhouetted in the cave. He stood proudly, although there was a little annoyed impatience in his stance. He was clearly trained in some sort of martial arts, judging by the way his muscles were barely contained by his skin. I stopped a good metre and a half away from him. Something didn't feel quite right.

'Is it just the moonlight or is his skin…. _blue?_ ' I squinted. It had to be the moonlight. Nobody had blue skin unless they had that super-rare genetic condition.

I shook my head. It was probably my brain going loo-la from fatigue. Those tattoos didn't really help matters either. They glimmered in the moonlight, the shimmering indigo seeming to undulate with the movement of his breath. Thankfully, he was wearing a pair of trousers, although they looked as if they'd seen better days.

A ragged looking belt with a weird green symbol sat around his trim waist. His feet, on closer inspection, weren't barefoot, but wrapped in footpads. The same wrapping was around his wrists. Across his back were sheathed a pair of weapons which I'd never before seen in my life.

They glowed an eerie yellow-green colour from the sharp, jagged designs etched into them, giving me the willies just by looking. The pale, cold light of the moon glinted wickedly on the razor edges. They looked so sharp, they seemed to slice the very air around them. Nicks and scratches marred the metal, showing their obviously frequent use. An unintended shudder went through me when I recalled just how easily he wielded them.

I squinted and rubbed my eyes when I looked more closely at his face.

'Oh my,' I mumbled internally, 'He's beautiful.'

That he was, but as aesthetically pleasing as his features were, they were countered by how grotesque some other parts of him seemed. I stood for a while, my brain trying, and failing, to process this information in a way that made some semblance of sense to me.

Lengthy, dark, midnight blue hair crowned his head and was let to flow freely around his shoulders. It was so extensive and voluminous that it reached all the way to the middle of his back. A pair of dark horns curled from his temples, coiling around themselves like those of a ram.

His strong, noble visage was set in a frown. High cheekbones and a fine, narrow nose led down to a pair of full lips, the skin over them cracked and bitten, like he chewed on them a lot. His sharp, firm chin led up from his strong, proud jaw to one of the most unbelievable pairs of ears I'd ever seen.

They had to be half the length of my forearm. Slender and tapering to a point, almost like stretched Dobby ears, they flopped slightly under their own weight, protruding from his lustrous locks. I had the strongest and most ridiculous urge to touch them.

Even more incredulous than his ears and horns, both of which I thought I was imagining, were his covered eyes. A blindfold, fashioned from a dark cloth, wrapped around them, disappearing into his hair at his temples.

It didn't do a marvellous job as he might have wanted because the acid-green glow still managed to permeate the thick layer of material. I nearly giggled when I noticed his eyebrows. Long, feathery and seemingly more like a butterfly's antennae, the furled up from the furious 'v' of his scowl.

A string of annoyed, incoherent rasping interrupted me. It seemed as though I'd been staring. A lot. I didn't need to speak his language to know that he was asking if I was going to get on with whatever I wanted or if I was going to stand there and waste his time even more.

I scowled, a flush of embarrassment making my cheeks burn.

"I just…" I began, realising it was futile when I remembered we couldn't get two words in that we could understand. "Never mind."

I sighed, turning away, only then realising that

(1) I had absolutely no idea where I was,

(2) I had just seen a demon, a fecking _demon_ and I was apparently grand with all that and

(3) I finally remembered the shard of broken glass which was embedded in my abdomen.

"Fuck!" I cried out, spotting the dark patch in the waistband of my trousers.

"Fuck!" I wrenched my T-shirt up, momentarily forgetting my saviour/exhaustion-induced hallucinogenic friend.

"Fuuuuuck!" I felt a sudden rush of dizziness when I saw the tail ends of what appeared to be not one, not two, but _three_ different shards of glass which currently made their homes in my flesh.

I swayed in a sudden rush of dizziness. The exhaustion, the realisation of what was happening-what _had_ happened, finally hit me.

"I've got glass in my belly," I whispered to myself, "and I was attacked by a demon, and saved by my evil Guardian Angel."

I giggled, everything seeming so ludicrous that the only plausible cause for all this trippiness would be me pulling over on a hard shoulder somewhere and OD'ing.

"I got glass in my belly," I giggled again, "and I have an evil guardian angel."

My knees collapsed underneath me, my giggles turned into sobs.

"I need help," I whimpered, hugging myself, rocking back and forth.

I tried to stand up, only to fall down on my side. I tried again, unable to even pull myself up into a sitting position. I'd never felt so alone, so _decrepit_ in my life, not even on the night I'd tried to take my own life.

"I'm sorry daddy," I keened, my body wracked with sobs, "I'm sorry I made you sad. I'm sorry I hurt you. Oh God if I ever get to see you again I promise I'll be a good daughter and do as you say."

My vision began to fade, black spots dancing across my line of sight.

"Nana, Granddad," I started to slip away, "I'm sorry I didn't get to say goodbye…"

The darkness took me once again, leaving me floundering in its depths, lost.

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So there you have it. This is my attempt at a decently-written Warcraft fanfiction. Do note that constructive criticism is welcome. If you find any holes in the plot, lore or general depictions of characters, don't hesitate to let me know. I can never learn if I can't correct my own mistakes. Please leave a review and tell me what you think!


	2. Confusion

Author's Note: I don't, under any circumstances, own the game World of Warcraft, its works, nor any other such related works/games/books. I make no profit from this story.

 _ **.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.**_

Chapter Two: Confusion.

 _ **.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.**_

I burned. Aching, blistering heat swept relentlessly over me. My body shivered from the chills caused by my sweat. My head hurt. Every heartbeat made me nauseous from a new wave of pain buffeting my senses, hitting me worst behind my eyes and in my joints. Every breath I took was laced with agony.

My throat itched, my tonsils swollen, fighting the chill that I'd managed to catch. I noticed I was still lying on the ground. My left side ached from where it was pressed against the hard earth. I could smell the damp, dark soil. It did nothing to soothe my stomach.

I winced as I took in another pained breath, too deeply, and my belly strained against the waistband of my shorts, jolting the shards of glass still there. The site of the wound itched and felt far too hot. My eyes stung, caked in salt and sleep from the crying I'd done and the time I'd spent unconscious. They felt swollen. I tried to open the lids but they felt too heavy. A frustrated whimper stole from my throat.

It hurt. I hurt, everywhere. I began to shudder. My fingers dug into the dirt below me, tearing out blades of grass with each pain-induced spasm. I moaned softly, trying not to cry, failing when tears sprung up from my left eye and trailed down into my hair, leaving chilling damp at my temples. My eyelids squeezed shut even more as the salty moisture seeped out from underneath.

Suddenly, there was a break in the stillness. My right eye cracked open at the sound of boots scuffing on the ground. A foot appeared in front of me, followed by a knee. I saw a large, clawed hand reach out to me.

Startled, my eyelids snapped all the way open and I tried to move back. I failed, groaning and baring my teeth as my body screamed in pain. My pulse boomed in my ears, every thump sending me more hurt. The hand gently touched my forehead, the fingers blessedly cool. A soft voice spoke, a male voice. I couldn't understand what he was saying.

They sighed and tutted, removing the hand. Quickly, he stood up and moved out of my line of sight, leaving me to think he'd left. He hadn't.

Without warning I was picked up like a child. I cried out when the shards of glass moved in the wound on my stomach. He cradled me gently, one strong arm wrapping around my torso and another supporting my legs, pressing me against him.

I flopped boneless in his arms, my head lolling against his shoulder. We began to move. His stride was strong, his footsteps light and he walked almost like a ninja, and I could barely hear him. I sucked in a breath at a surprise jolt of pain shooting through my left flank. In my delirium I caught a comforting whiff of lavender.

'Who is he?' I wondered, swaying with the movement of his gait, 'What's happened to me? Where am I? What's _going_ to happen to me?'

Apprehension trickled through me when I thought of that. I had no idea where I was, no clue as to what happened to me. For all I know I could've pulled over, gone down that forestry trail and go through every pill or prescription item I had. It certainly wouldn't have been the first time I'd done something like that. I whimpered at the memory, bitterness filling my mouth and my gag reflex slowly kicked in.

To keep myself from going loopy, I wracked my brains for any clue as to what happened before I passed out. Nothing. My forehead creased in a frown, betraying my confusion and discomfort at the matter. It was almost as if there was a rift in my mind, a gap where something important should be.

'I must have amnesia,' I thought.

After a while of walking, for how long I don't know, we stopped. The steady rhythm of my rescuer's breathing changed to a deep hum as he spoke. The sound was oddly comforting.

'He's got a lovely voice' I mused. My brain felt full of mush.

A flurry of questions responded in a language I couldn't understand, sounding agitated. I winced when I was moved and placed gently on my back, onto something soft. I moved my head slightly, regretting it the instant I felt agony shoot down my spine. I sucked in a breath, choking on a cough, moisture clouding my eyes. From a pained squint I could just about make out an amber glow to my right, followed by a wave of heat and the smell of soot and burning.

My hands opened and closed, fingers flexing, teeth gritting as I tried to distract myself from the raging pain threatening to take me over. I wanted to ask something, who my rescuer was, but I choked on phlegm and smoke.

'It's not like they can understand me,' I thought bitterly, wincing again as I breathed, 'I'm either in a drug-laced stupor or somebody's hit me over the head and I'm dreaming.'

Maybe I'd just lost too much blood and my imagination was just running away with me again. Yes, that was probably it. A figure kneeled down to my left, cupping my face in their hands and tilting it towards them. The chill from their touch was comforting, in an odd way. I blinked, attempting to clear my eyes from the fluid which was irritating my vision.

Perspiration sprung up from my pores as a sudden wave of heat swept over me from both the campfire and my own burning body. I shuddered, my belief that I was hallucinating became even more profound when I stared blearily into the face of the one who was frowning down at me.

Glowing eyes, a mix of silver and amber, pierced my own from a wild, angular face. His skin was ashen blue, his features stunning, all cheekbones and jaw. A full mouth was currently pursed in concentration as he examined me. Turquoise hair crowned his regal head, part of it tied back but tendrils here and there escaped and flopped over his high forehead and tangled in his long, wild eyebrows.

Poking out of his hair, flopping hilariously, were a pair of ears. Long, pointy, absurd even, but they were there. I had the most ridiculous urge to touch them, although at that very moment I barely had the strength to lift my head let alone my two arms.

Swept by a sense of déjà vu, I nearly missed what he had to say. He spoke again, the tone indicating a question. I opened my mouth to speak, nothing but a harsh croak escaping.

My body felt heavy, my head flopping against the rough fabric of the blanket beneath me when he released my face to lift up my T-shirt. He let out a cry of shock when he saw the blood, the glass and the torn flesh in my belly. I suddenly felt exhausted, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep and never wake up again.

The world seemed to fade away. The pointy eared tie-dyed man in front of me panicked, noticing my heavy eyelids droop and close, slapping my face in an attempt to rouse me. I heard him but it sounded hollow, distant. I could barely feel my own skin, let alone the slaps he was putting on me.

'It's all a bad dream,' a soothing voice assured me, my consciousness slipping away more and more, 'go to sleep. When you wake up, everything will be alright again.'

I smiled, or at least I think I did. That sounded nice. No worries, no more of my family hating me, no more abuse. That sounded perfect. My limbs went numb, my thoughts slowed down, I couldn't smell, taste or feel anything.

I saw nothing but darkness. The only sounds I could hear was the panicked dialogue between Flop-ears and his companion, and even that exchange was becoming muffled and fading away. The last few decibels tickled my ears and then…nothing.

I felt myself drift, weightless, nothing around me but a soothing blanket of numbness. I had no worries, no thoughts. I was content to float about forever.

A feeling niggled at the back of my empty mind. I frowned, or at least, I felt myself frown. That feeling was….familiar. Strong, primal, an instinct almost. I pushed it to the back of my mind, out of the way, not wanting it to disturb my peace. Sentiment was a pest I would be glad to be rid of.

The emotion refused to be contained, however, straining against my mental constraints and forcing me to acknowledge it. Growling, I attempted to ignore it, pointedly thinking of something else. Damn, now I'm _thinking_ again. I tried in vain to slip back into that ignorant, blissful state. The feeling struck out again, forcing me to pay attention, to think, to _remember._

'Remember what happened,' a small voice whispered, faint and coming from somewhere deep within me, 'don't let them fool you. You need to _see.'_

I did see, or rather, I felt it; Fear.

Once again it choked my throat, trickled through my veins and seized my limbs. My thoughts jumbled and scrambled like a can of worms, wriggling and squirming about, none making any sense nor appearing to start or finish anywhere. I saw, once again, the demon attack. The maniacal grin slicing through its ruddy face, the cloven hooves and lime green eyes burning with unholy fire.

I felt the grit under my palms, tasted the blood from my bitten lip. I heard its diabolical laugh, my own frantic voice, far too high and fast, praying. I felt the energy gather up for a fatal blow before the creature decided to finish me off.

The yell of rage, of hunger, so fierce it was a battle cry. The sound of metal slicing through flesh, unholy screams of agony, cries of exertion. The meaty thud as the body fell, the life cleaved from it. I remembered the way he stood, the way he tried to help me up. I remembered chasing him out into the moonlight, startled by his beauty and also his wretchedness.

I saw his face once more, the high, sharp cheekbones, and the strong jaw. The flowing blue that was his hair, as if he wore the evening sky on his crown and around his shoulders. The ram's horns curling around his face gleamed brightly under the stars. Finally, burning into me so I saw nothing else; the green fire of his eyes.

I felt frozen in place, caught up in that stare. Green fire, vivid, alive; there was nothing but that haunting jade.

He turned and left, walking away. I made to follow him, unable to move my feet. I frowned, looking down. There were roots entangling themselves around my ankles, creeping up my legs towards my knees. I tried to yank my foot out, looking up again to the figure retreating off into the distance. My arm went up, my hand reaching out to him. The edges of my vision began to crack, the picture fading.

"Wait!" I gasped, my eyes springing open, my arm up. But it was the star-studded sky I was looking at, not my mysterious rescuer. My legs were held down by hands, not roots, the figure crouching over them was hidden from the firelight.

I glanced to my left, Flop-ears still there, his hands glowing a soft brownish-green, a phantom cluster of leaves swirling around them. He had them hovering over my belly. I only realised then that my T-shirt was pulled all the way up to my chin and the waistband of my shorts had been undone, the garments and my underwear pulled down practically to my groin.

I squealed, immediately moving to cover myself. Flop-ears seemed to notice this and he snapped at someone behind me. Slender but strong hands grabbed my wrists and clamped them back down on either side of me. I looked up to see a very beautiful, yet strange face hover a little above my own.

'I must still be dreaming.'

Flop-ears muttered something to himself, glancing over at me. I felt unease squirm in my gut at the look on his face. I may not know what he was saying but he had the universal 'I'm-sorry-but-this-won't-go-well' look plastered all over that ashen face of his.

My mouth opened to question him when I suddenly had an agonised howl ripped out of me, my eyes clamping shut. I squinted at him, tears springing up.

He had an apologetic look on his face. In one of his large hands, slicked with blood, was a jagged shard of glass. I felt lightheaded, sick almost as I went back from looking at the ragged mess of skin in my belly, to the offending foreign body in his grasp. He reached down to my wound again, making to remove more of the glass. My eyes widened, my breath quickened, becoming heavier and I made a whimpering noise at the back of my throat.

'Don't touch me!'

My shoulders bucked up, fighting against the hold on me from above. I flailed, my hips bucking, trying to yank my legs out from the grip of whoever was pinning them down.

"No," I rasped, "stop it. It hurts. It hurts. It _HURTS_!"

I screamed when I felt the last few pieces of the glass come out, tearing into my flesh and worrying the already-mangled tissue. My scream turned into broken whimpering and hiccupping sobs as I slumped, no longer fighting the restraints on me.

I barely registered Flop-ears' hands glowing again. I just stared up at the stars winking above, wishing for the pain to go away. Tears slid from the corners of my eyes down the sides of my face, tickling my ears. I breathed in and out harshly in pained gasps, hiccupping every now and again.

The weight on my wrists left, the blond woman above me moving back and out of my field of vision. Shakily, my hands moved up to where the hem of my T-shirt was, yanking it back down to cover my bloodstained midriff. I noticed then that there was no pain anymore. Sitting up, I pressed my hands against my belly in shock. My head no longer hurt, nor did the rest of my limbs.

"What in the?" I pulled my T-shirt up, running my palm over the now-smooth skin in wonderment.

There was nothing remaining of the wound except for a mass of congealed blood. I raised my eyes to Flop-ears.

"How?" I whispered.

He gave me a blank stare, those pale golden eyes showing only confusion. My head drooped, accompanied by a sigh from deep within my chest in the realization that nothing I said would get through. Exhausted, but no longer in pain, I fell backwards onto the soft blanket.

'Nothing but babble, remember?' I told myself, my mind beginning to drift as I listened to Flop-ears gab away with a husky, feminine voice.

My eyes closed as I laid there. From the depths of my mind, I could feel the minute tendrils of panic, despair and fear worm their way up to the surface. I drew in a deep breath of cool night air, delving through my mind for something to calm myself down.

A memory emerged with the smell of horse, honeysuckle and soft summer grass. Golden sun rained down in heavenly shafts of light as I sat up on Pooka, riding him through the woods.

Sleepy chirrups and liquid birdsong flowed through the trees, back and forth, their drowsy conversations soft on my ears. Pooka's coarse mane tangled in my fingers as we cantered along the forestry trail. I felt his power even through the saddle as we bounded along without a worry in the world. After we returned and I hosed down his steaming body, he'd nibble my shoulder or lip my hair. He wouldn't leave the gate after releasing him into the field until I gave him something to munch on.

I'd always have a mint or a few slices of apple to give him, loving the way his velvety muzzle daintily plucked them from the palm of my hand. Oh how I wished for those simple days.

Just as the cracks began to appear in the memory, my attention was brought back to my body. My eyes snapped open, pupils contracting in the bright light which suddenly came into being above me. I hissed, shielding my face with my hands, the radiance burning. A soft, slender hand gently but effortlessly parted my meagre barricade. I felt the tip of a finger touch the middle of my forehead, just above my eyes, completely centred.

I felt as though someone had reached inside my cranium and unravelled my brain.

An itchiness, confusion and a jolting tingle crept right down my spine and wriggled under my skin caused me to cry out in alarm and bewilderment. Unease and discomfort were all I felt. My face screwed up, eyes squinting and teeth bared as I tried to work out what exactly was happening. As quickly as it came, the weird sensation disappeared, leaving me reeling. My body froze, stiff as a board for a few seconds.

"What the fuuu-" I slurred, staring blearily up at the star-studded sky, "Jay-sus. The feck? I feel like my brain's turned into bloody scrambled egg."

I pulled myself up with a grunt, my hand clamping over my eye. The contents of my brain felt like they were about to slosh right out from my ears. I was nearly wretched with the dizziness.

"And she speaks Common. Wonderful."

I let out an unsightly hoot from surprise at the sudden voice behind me. Trying and failing at an owl impersonation, I twisted my head and upper body around to look at whoever had just spoken.

"What did you say?" I asked, still slurring slightly. I frowned lopsidedly, "Wait, you can understand me?"

"Indeed I can young lady," The owner of the voice, a very well-built man who appeared to be in his late thirties, answered me.

I squinted at him, my brain still feeling like squishy noodles. He was human, that was for sure, but he looked as though he'd just stepped out of a Knights Templar documentary.

Heavy-looking well-polished plate armour encased his body in a protective silver and gold-trimmed shell. Draped around his shoulders was a pale cloak of slippery-looking material, probably silver, which reflected the ruddy tones from the fire.

Chin-length wheaten hair, the top half of which was tied back from his face, sprawled messily around his face. He cocked his head, his left cheek catching the light. I gasped softly at the sight of a brutal row of scars which slashed all the way from his hairline to his Adam's apple. They looked as though they were caused by claws of some sort.

He was sitting on a moss-covered log, polishing a wicked and heavy-looking claymore. The blade winked in the light, the wine-coloured hues of the flames bathing it in a bloody glow, making it gleam wickedly. I supressed a shiver at the thought of how many had already felt the bite of that sword cutting through them.

"Wait, so what were you saying before?" I asked, shifting my weight slightly and trying to cover up the fact that I'd been staring.

"I was speaking in plain Common," he put down the cloth and looked me dead in the eyes, "I don't know what nonsense you were spewing but it weren't like any I'd ever heard in my life." His speech was slightly hoarse, but he had one of those rough, hardy voices. It actually reminded me of one of the lads back home.

"Common?" I raised an eyebrow, still not staring, or trying not to stare, at his scars, "never heard of it."

"Oh come on," he flung his arms out either side of him, "you're from Azeroth, aren't ya?"

I blinked rapidly, squinting in confusion.

'Oh Christ,' I cocked my head, missing the question, 'he has a blind eye!'

"Say, say that again?"

"Say what?" He looked confused.

"Where I'm supposed to be from." My brain was mixed up.

He looked at me like I was retarded before replying, "Azeroth."

'The feck has this chap been smoking?'

My jaw dropped and a befuddled "huh?" emerged. "Aza-where?"

This time _he_ blinked, only slowly, like an owl. He craned his neck and looked past me, calling out to one of the figures by the fire.

"Hey, Bluey!" A gauntleted hand pointed in my direction, "Are ya sure you healed this one right? I think you forgot her brain."

I bristled. Puffing up like an angry cat, I was ready to give him a solid tongue-lashing when I became distracted by a sudden, large person who plonked themselves in front of me. A calloused, cool hand grabbed my chin, eerily glowing eyes meeting my own. I squealed like a stuck pig, jerking my face free from Flop-ears' grip and falling backwards onto my elbows.

"The feck are you doing, you flop-eared nub?" I spat, glaring up at him, daring him to touch me again.

His mouth hardened into a thin line, those feathery eyebrows drew together in a furious 'V,' making him look more formidable. I gulped, but didn't quit my glare.

"For someone who would have died on the roadside without my intervention, you have a very odd way of showing gratitude." He had a funny accent, I noticed.

He leaned down, placing his left arm to one side of me, his other hand reaching out towards me, making me tense up again. I was also uncomfortably aware at how he was pseudo-straddling me. Apprehension knotted my stomach up at the weight of him bearing down on me. I began to wriggle about so as to get away. He didn't take too kindly to it.

"What's the matter with you?" He muttered frustratedly, leaning forwards even more. I hissed and tried to bite his hand as he moved it to my face again, "you're acting as if you've never seen an elf before."

"Get the fuck away from me!" I exclaimed, pushing on his chest and attempting to fling him from me. When that didn't work I wiggled my arse backwards along the ground and out from underneath him.

My breath quickened as panic began to set in, "Go away! You're not real. This isn't real!"

I moved away yet again, turning my back on the blue man with the funny ears and the shadowy figures of the rest of the group. A choked sob escaped me as I curled up in a ball and shielded my body with my arms. I began to shake, all the events leading up to now churning in my mind, the memories filling me with prickling dread, causing alarm and misery to slough through me.

'My God, what did I do to deserve this? Where the Hell am I and how the fuck do I get home?'

I went immobile at a hand gently touching my back.

"It's alright," a rolling, husky female voice cooed, "we won't hurt you. We only want to help you."

I kept my head in my hands.

"How do I know I won't be hurt?" I asked plaintively, "I don't know where I am or what's going on or what's even-"

I broke off, a terrified keen building up in my throat. My shoulders shook as I silently bawled my eyes out.

"Hush, hush child," the woman sounded distressed, her odd accent even more prominent, "there's no need to cry. If we wanted to hurt you we would have done so already. But you're safe now, yes?"

"Y-yes," I sniffled. I began to calm down a little at the soothing motions of the hand gently rubbing my back.

"Will you come back to the fire?" She cooed softly, "We can all sit down together and talk this over, hmm?"

I nodded.

"Good." She sounded happy with the decision.

I slowly lifted my head from my hands, wiping the tears from my eyes and wondering when the Hell I'd become such a cry-baby. Not forgetting my manners, I turned to thank her for her kindness.

Big mistake.

As soon as I laid eyes on her, I felt petrified. My heart stopped, my blood turned to ice and my eyes widened so much they nearly popped out of their sockets. The corners of my mouth twinged from how widely my mouth was stretched open. I sucked in a quick, startled breath.

Only seconds after that I let out a scream that would put a banshee to shame, hurting even my tonsils as near to one hundred decibels ripped through the night. As soon as I started, I leaped up, still shrieking, and ran into the dark. The same thought bounced around in my brain-box;

'It's a _demon_. It's a _demon!_ It's a _DEMON!_ '

Like any good little Catholic girl, I made to get as far away from the no-no as possible. In this case, the no-no being a demonic-looking humanoid creature. After a good five minutes of racing away and squealing, I slowed down a little, shutting my gob and stopping the scream. I was blinded by the substantial lack of light and my own overwhelming fear.

That's when I went over the edge.

My arms flailed, my legs pumped, boots scuffing on the rough ground. I couldn't see or feel the cliff edge, and was taken aback when, expecting solid ground to meet with my foot, I was instead presented with open space.

"Fuck! Fuck!" I tried to stop, my limbs whirling around like a windmill as I tried to find something to grab a hold of. "No, no, no! Shit HELP MEEEEEE…..."

I screamed aloud again, freefalling. Bracing myself against either sharp rocks, hard ground or water, I was surprised when I hit something soft. The soft thing screeched. I was shocked to find that the one soft thing was actually a large number of soft things. Quickly as I could manage, I rolled away from them, the moon disappearing into the clouds, plunging everywhere into darkness.

"Ouch," I winced, picking myself up from the ground, leaning my back against a rough, solid something. Probably a boulder.

The clouds then decided to stop harassing the moon and as the wraith-like, silvery rays lit up the area I felt my stomach sink down into the topsoil. It was at that moment that I knew, I fucked up.

Amassed in front of me was a colony of feather-cats. They screeched and squawked at each other. Some were perched on the cliff I'd just fallen off, others were grouped directly in front of me. In my peripheral vision I could see even more creeping from both sides, moving to corner me at the boulder. All were watching me, all were bristling and all of them looked pissed as hell.

So, I did what any sensible person would do.

I ran.

I shot out and away from the boulder and the parrot-cats as if the Devil himself was after me. Behind me I could hear enraged screeching and a stampede of angry footprints. My lungs burned, my arms and legs pumped in a desperate attempt to escape the nasties.

'What in the fuck are those creatures anyway?' I cried to myself, 'Did someone have a field day in a Lab somewhere after snorting Rainbow Dust? Why would you even _think_ of making something that bizarre?'

In a moment of idiocy I glanced over my shoulder. In doing so I tripped and flew for a couple of feet before mushing my face into the ground. The force was so great that I bounced and tumbled for another short while until I came to rest, dazed. Then I heard the rapid footfalls and squawking cacophony and I was dazed no more.

It was a struggled to regain my footing. I went stumbling and lurching all over the place. I looked behind me again and my blood froze. They were nearly upon me.

"Oh God," I whined, scrambling up again and taking off, "please don't let them get me!"

I hadn't made it three feet before my ankle gave under me with a sickening snap and I fell, screaming, as hot agony sparked up my leg and throbbed behind my eyes, making me see stars. I made to stand, but I couldn't. The pain was too much. My back prickled in anticipation of claws and beaks ripping into my flesh.

I closed my eyes, bowing my head and waiting for my torment to ensue. I was expecting to be feather-cat munchies, to be killed viciously and torn to bits. I definitely wasn't expecting to be picked up by a massive bird.

"Holy shit!" I yelled in shock as I was grasped by my shoulders by gargantuan talons and lifted up, high into the air. "Let me go you fecking feather duster!"

I wriggled and squirmed in its grasp. My hands automatically clutched onto the rough skin of the raptor's feet, trying to detach them from my shoulders. The grip on me was like that of iron and the bird still went higher and higher.

'I might have to slip out of my T-shirt to escape, like they do in the movies,' I thought, panicked. Glancing down, I saw the owl-cats fighting with a group of people, some of which didn't look human.

There were two hulking figures clad in plate, one who was hurling hammers of light and held a massive shield. The other wreaked havoc with a hefty one-handed sword. I could also see a slender creature clad in dark material flitting in and out of the writhing pack of animals. Another statuesque, definitely feminine, creature stood to the side and hurled bolts of…was that ice? No, it was light. She wielded pure light and was hurling some at the fighters and the rest at the animals.

The bird above me let out a loud caw, eerily similar to that of either a crow or a raven, and began to tilt. We slowly spiralled down. I saw the last of the cats, some who fled and others who continued to fight. The ones who stubbornly refused to leave were cut down.

Figures moved between the corpses, plucking feathers, hacking off claws, one person even skinning a good number of the beasts. The sight of the glistening, skinless corpses, the moonlight making the blood look black, made my gag reflex kick-start.

I hiccupped and clamped a hand over my mouth as we neared to the ground, the breeze changing for a short second. My nostrils filed with the scent of blood, meat and excrement. It was awful and sickening.

I let out an 'eep' when big auld birdie let go of me and dropped me to the ground. I momentarily forgot about my wonky ankle and tried to steady myself to stand on my own two feet. Oh boy, did I regret that.

"Fecking Hell!" I squealed, clenching my hand into a fist and shoving it into my mouth.

My injured leg flew off the ground and tucked under me as though the soil had turned into lava. In an effort to maintain my balance I hopped around on my good foot, biting down on my fist to distract myself from the pain in my ankle.

I still managed to fall to the ground. The movement jarred my bad leg and I nearly drew blood from how hard I bit down on my hand. I breathed heavily in and out, and after a minute I removed my fist from my mouth and wiped it on my T-shirt.

My head swung around to my left, catching a glimpse of the bird, who'd landed and was looking at me with a beady black eye. I cocked my head, ignoring the pain as the creature ruffled its feathers, seeming to shift.

The neck grew longer, the body became more upright, and the beak and wings shrank into its body, becoming a face and arms, with hands. The spindly legs filled out and the talons withdrew into themselves, becoming feet with toes. My jaw dropped at the fairly rapid and fluid transformation from bird to man.

Where the bird sat not nearly a minute before, Flop-ears now stood, and he looked pissed. I noted at the back of my mind that he still had his clothes on, whichever way that worked.

"You!" I exclaimed, pointing at the tall blue man, noticing only then his odd manner of dress; closely fitted leathers entwined with leaves and the like, "You're a fecking púca! What the hell?!"

Flop-ears brushed himself down and strode towards where I was lying. I squeaked and held my hand up.

"Stop!" I wriggled backwards, "don't come near me now," he looked even more pissed off, "I don't want any of your fairy magicks messing with my head."

He ignored my 'stop' hand and grasped me by the wrist, pulling me to my feet, or, foot. I squawked like a hen and tried to hobble back, cursing and swearing and babbling on about not wanting to go away with the faries, pulling against his grip. He yanked me towards him, shouting.

"Enough!" His velvety voice livid. I stopped my protestations, meeting his raging luminescent eyes with my own wide, scared ones, "What's the matter with you?"

"What do you mean?" I retorted, "What's with you? What in the feck are you supposed to be?"

"I'm an elf," his eyebrows drew together in a furious 'v', "It's obvious. You're a very stupid human to not realise that, especially for one who's on the Broken Isles."

My cheeks filled with two high red blotches. I gasped in anger.

"Who're you calling stupid, you overgrown smurf?" How dare he? Only I was allowed to call myself stupid! "And what's with all the grabbing, huh? What in the feck am I doing here? How the hell are you turning into birdman and-" I glanced behind him, spotting the demon-lady I'd run away from earlier, "Oh Christ Almighty _there's a demon over there_!" My voice trailed off to a strangled whisper.

"Where?" Flop-ears whirled around, dragging me with him in his arc. I hopped and filled the air with 'feck's and 'fuck's'. "Where's the demon?"

"Right there," I pointed to the lady in white and gold-ish robes, holding a staff. My heart picked up again when I looked at the group, seeing one of the heavy figures take off their plate helmet, revealing an indigo-skinned face complete with horns and white, glowing eyes. "Oh Lord have mercy there's another one!" I pointed at blue-face, "Oh Jesus, Mary and Joseph," I bawled, sounding like an old Biddy, "I don't want to go to Hell!"

Flop-ears' face went from tense and attentive to confused and finally, disgusted, in a matter of seconds. The looked down at me, curling his lip in contempt.

"They aren't demons you ignorant human." I opened my mouth to retaliate but he cut me off with another jerk on my arm, "they're Draenei, creatures of the Light. How could you not know that yet be here on the Broken Isles? What are you even doing here anyway?" I was given a cursory glance up and down, feeling humiliated by the dismissive look, "you're obviously not here to fight, and that's for sure."

"I've been asking you what I'm doing here and where this is," I pinched the bridge of my nose, sucking in a frustrated breath, "I've asked and I've asked and you still haven't answered my questions."

"You haven't answered mine," he snapped back.

"You didn't give me a chance to!"

"Well now I am."

"Oh yeah, like I'm going to answer them now after how you've been treating me."

"Well you're not getting any answers from me, either."

"Hey, would you two quit it?" A rough male voice called out to us, "you're like two dogs pissing on each other. Stop being so childish and act like responsible adults. Jeez." The armoured man from the fire clomped towards us, his helmet under his arm and his sword on his back.

He stopped in front of us, followed closely by a svelte woman wearing jet-black leathers, wicked daggers holstered at her hips. Her silky-looking blonde hair was tied back in a chignon and her eyes glowed a bright acid green, not unlike those of the Metal Angel I'd met just after arriving here.

She was so pretty, with beautifully proportioned eyes, nose, and a little rosebud mouth which was currently pursed in a pout. Her eyebrows were like Flop-ears; long, spindly and arcing up and off of her face, although these seemed to be much better groomed.

I couldn't help but feel she looked like a grumpy Taylor Swift. As she inspected her nails and huffed, after not even half a minute of glancing at me and dismissing my existence I changed my mind. She just seemed like a bitch.

To the left of the blonde was another plate-covered figure, yet this one was built like a behemoth.

Standing over eight feet tall, he was looked sort of human, except for a few minor details. For one, he had a big bony crest coming off his forehead, shaped in such a way that it almost looked like a crown. Tendrils decorated with golden rings protruded from his chin, four of them, and they tangled in his powder-blue hair, half of which was tied back from his face, the other half let loose.

His size alone screamed 'Non-human!' but I was also very aware of the fact that instead of feet, his legs ended in cloven hooves. They were also like the hindquarters of a goat, but without the hair. I squinted a little, was that a tail?

'Oh dear God,' my assumption was correct, 'he has a fecking tail!' It swung lazily back and forth behind him, a large, heavy-looking golden ring fastened securely three-quarters of the way down its length. I blinked hard and shook my head, still convinced that I was seeing things.

On the other side of the blonde was another female. This one had been extremely kind and she'd comforted me, and I'd got scared and wailed in her face before tearing off.

She was gorgeous, with luscious lips, a long, strong nose and a soft, oval face. Two delicate horns, like those of a kudu, curled up and out from the elegantly coiffed mass of her snow-white hair. Her garb was a well-fitted white and golden dress, showing off her curvy figure and making me feel very podgy and frumpy in comparison. Also at eight feet in height, with cloven feet, she was quite definitely a non-human as well.

After examining the posse, I opened my mouth to try and explain to the human that I just wanted to know what happened to get me here and that I wanted to go home. Flop-ears beat me to it.

"She hasn't answered any questions so far," his accented lilt now starting to sound more annoying than relaxing, "she's caused nothing but trouble since I picked her up and I refuse to cooperate with her until she behaves."

I tensed, anger shooting through me. My mouth opened and I sucked in a breath, ready to lash out. I was stopped by a hand on my free arm. I followed the hefty, gauntleted hand up a plate clad arm to the face of the big blue darn-eye-whatever you call him.

His illuminated white eyes stared into my own from a heavyset face and he gently shook his head. I blinked, tilting my head to the side in incredulity, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He gave me a pointed look and a small nod before turning to Flop-ears.

"You should know better, Kaldorei," his bass timbre had a roiling accent, like that of the goat-legged woman. Was it Russian or Hindi? I couldn't tell. "Look at her," he swept a massive arm out, showing me still doing my flamingo impression. "She can barely stand, you're holding onto her like a prisoner and you still haven't healed her from when you picked her up from the roadside."

"That has nothing to do with her attitude," the long-eared irritator said snidely, "she shouldn't be here anyway unless she can take care of herself."

"Yet you picked her up," the blue mountain stated, folding his arms before speaking again, "have you forgotten your patience, druid? You know far better than to act the way you did. Remember your manners."

Flop-ears flinched, narrowing his eyes to pale amber slits. "You're one to talk, paladin." He growled, his upper lip curling back far enough to show a dangerously sharp-looking set of teeth with long, pointed canines. I shivered.

"Enough!" The goat-lady interjected, pulling me from the elf's grasp and putting herself between Flop ears and I as the paladin caught me before I fell. "You both want answers, yes? So do us all!"

Blondie nodded, as did the human.

"Just ask each other questions," goat-lady began again, "and answer them. It's simple. This time," she looked both of us in the eyes like naughty children, "behave yourselves. Yes?"

I nodded. Flop ears jerked his chin. We both looked one another up and down. I decided I'd at least act civil and schooled my face into a neutral expression. Expecting the same from him, I glanced up, only to find him looking down his nose at me in contempt.

'Right,' I thought, pissed off once more, 'if he wants to pay that game, I'll bloody well play that game.'

I stuck my face right up to his, a furious scowl contorting my features. "Who are you? Where am I? And how did I get here?" I said vehemently, "That's all I want to know."

He brought his own visage, a mask of grieving annoyance and immense irritation, to my own. "I'm Faeldryn, you're on The Broken Isles, Azeroth. We've already told you this. As for how you got here, I was hoping you would tell me that."

"Well," I backed off, "I don't know. _I_ was hoping _you_ would know that, being a fairy and all."

"Elf," he corrected, "Kaldorei to be exact."

"Bless you."

He frowned, tilting his head to the side, giving me a quizzical look which quickly dissolved into irritation once more when I refused to answer.

"Who are you?" He grated through his teeth.

"Aoibheann," I replied without hesitation.

Another frown, this time followed by a comment; "That sounds like a Dwarven name."

"Do I look like a dwarf to you?" I snarked, "You can clearly see I'm a little over-catered for in the height department."

"That was just an observation," he sounded pissed off again.

I sighed, counting to ten in my head and letting a breath out to calm myself before I made the situation any worse.

"I think," I began, glancing at him tentatively, "I'm ready to talk and," I fidgeted with my fingers, "I'd also like to listen to what ye all have to say."

The blonde huffed, snatching a dagger from its sheath and picking at her nails. "It's about time," she muttered, making my ears and cheeks burn red with annoyance and a little shame.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry if I was a little bit scared," I bit out, my voice heavy with sarcasm, "But, it's not every day you get violently shunted from one reality to another and nearly kill yourself along the way. But," I put my hands on my hips, "You probably do that _all_ the time and I'm just a humble rookie when it comes to interdimensional travel huh?"

I really shouldn't have responded that way. Miss Taylor Swift doppelganger appeared to have a superiority complex. Said complex must have become triggered by my snarky remark if the dagger appearing in front of my nose was anything to go by. Woops.

"You'd better watch your tone, human," she hissed. I flinched slightly, regretting my smart-mouthed jibe. Although just a little, mind you.

"Alysria!" Goat-lady said sternly to the blonde, "leave her," she brought her white eyes to me, "and you, she's right. You'd better watch your mouth."

"Fine, fine," I flung my hands up, palms facing out, "Jaysus, you have no sense of humour. I was being sarcastic."

The Blonde, Alysria, gave me a dirty look before removing her blade and flouncing off with the goat-lady in tow.

"Let's just get back to camp." The armoured mountain behind me sighed, "But first," he nodded at my ankle, "I need to fix that for you."

"Wait," I cocked my head to the side, "you can heal things? How? Don't you need a splint or at least something to brace the injury? Wha-"

He held his hand up and I stopped my interrogation.

"Watch," setting me down on the ground with my back against a large rock, "and you will see."

I turned my eyes to my damaged limb. It throbbed and hurt. The foot was swollen enough that it strained against the confines of my boot. My eyes widened and my mouth opened to a little 'o'of surprise when I noticed a golden glow gather in his hands.

He brought them down to my ankle and I must say, that was probably one of the most wonderful feelings I'd ever felt before in my life. Warmth bled into my skin, down through muscle and sinew and filtered into my bones. I felt the pain be washed away, the swelling rapidly decreased and I let out a breath of relief when the injury was completely healed.

Tentatively, I wriggled my toes inside the confines of my boot. A slight smile spread across my face when I found no pain in response to the action. Encouraged, I rotated my ankle and flexed my foot, whooping under my breath. All I felt were minute tingles, like pins and needles.

'Is that what a miracle looks like?' I wondered.

"Thank you," I said quietly, my tone grateful.

"You're welcome," the big blue man replied, his bass tone warm and rumbling like an avalanche. "Now, let's get back to our camp. Faeldryn?" Flop-ears, no, Faeldryn looked over his shoulder at Blue Mountain.

"Yes?" He enquired.

"Could you take Aoibheann on your back?" There was that frown again, "I don't want her to put too much weight on her leg. It needs to settle or she might damage it again."

The elf breathed in and out, pinching his nose, before answering; "Fine, I'll take her. But if she falls off I'm not picking her back up again."

"Uhhhhh…" I poked a heavily armoured shoulder, "What do you mean by put me on his back?"

"He's going to carry you," was the response, as sound as if piggybacking was an everyday, mundane thing.

"Right," I drew the word out, my eyes on Faeldryn who was in front of me in a matter of seconds. "So," I asked him, "is it going to be a piggyback or - Oh Lord above you're a _deer_!" He'd rather quickly and, needless to say, painfully, transformed into a stag before my eyes.

The stag, white in colour and covered in weird symbols etched into its fur, snorted in my face. I stood, still in shock, as it kneeled down, offering its back to me. I looked back for the blue armoured chap but he'd disappeared into the night.

'Come on Aoibheann, you can do this.' I schooled myself, 'it's just like riding Pooka, bareback.'

With my face set and myself steeled for whatever came after, I stood up, swung a leg over and gingerly lowered myself onto the animal-no, it was Faeldryn.

"Woah!" I yelped, scrabbling for a mane to grab a hold of, realising there was no mane and just digging my fingers into the thick fur as the now-stag-Faeldryn rose up to a stand. "Okay, cool," I chuffed, "no problem. I can handle this. Just like riding a horse, right?"

In the beginning, yes. We turned as soon as Faeldryn stood, and set off into the dark. The walk was rather nice. I was able to keep myself from sliding all over the place, clinging with my legs as well as burrowing my fingers into the luscious, fluffy coat. As we began to speed up a little, I was sure in the knowledge that I wouldn't so much as sway an inch no matter what happened.

I was wrong.

A galloping deer has a very different gait to the steady lope of a horse. For one, they bounce more and for another I think Faeldryn was deliberately being more bouncy in an effort to buck me off. As a result I ended up leaning forwards and pressing myself against his back and withers while, at the same time, clinging for dear life onto his antlers.

I know most deer would be rather small compared to horses but this boy was _huge_! He was about the same size as a Percheron horse.

'He'd be as large as a Giant Irish Deer if he was any bigger,' I mused, making a rather embarrassing hooting noise when we jumped up along a cliff.

"F-faeldryn-"I wobbled, my voice shaking and trying desperately not to fall off, "Faeldryn, do you think we could go a bit slower? I don't really fancy falling off..."

The bastard sped up!

I gasped and huffed as I was flung around, scrabbling for purchase in his broad back with my knees, my thighs, heck, anything would have done at that point.

"Please slow down, I think I'm going to fall off!" I yelled as I lost my grip on both the antlers and the stag and I went tumbling yet again, landing on my buttocks. "Ouch!"

Faeldryn stopped. I sat there, groaning and rubbing a hand over my tender rump, moving to get up. He turned his head to look at me, mussed up and rolling around in the dirt. I swear by the glint in his eye he was laughing at me, or maybe it was just the moon.

He snorted, the sound suspiciously close to a guffaw. Not the moon then. I stood up, albeit shakily and made my way to him. As soon as I came within touching distance, he snorted and danced backwards, away from me. I scowled and moved forwards yet again.

Once more as soon as I came close enough to reach out and touch him he bounded backwards. It happened again, and again and again until I became so frustrated I just flung my hands up in the air and collapsed to the ground in a fuming, cross-legged heap of frustration, muttering curses at him under my breath.

I glared at the grass, pulling up individual blades from the soil. I could hear his footsteps approach, feet not hooves. Sure enough, two leather clad boot toes stomped down in front of me. I sniffed and pointedly ignored them.

By this stage I was tired, confused and on the brink of a mental breakdown. I didn't know whether I was going to laugh maniacally or collapse in a weeping mess, again, so I focused my attention on decapitating the grass. It was working, at least it had begun to work. That is, until Faeldryn spoke.

"Aoibheann," I froze, shaking my head in a silent but adamant 'no.' He wasn't having it, "Aoibheann, look at me," I felt a large hand grasp my shoulder.

I slowly lifted my head. He was kneeling in front of me, resting back on his heels.

'How can his eyes shine like that?' I thought stupidly, 'It's like there's a lightbulb in his brain.'

"What?" My voice was flat, tired.

He pursed his lips, staring at me for the longest time. I felt, for reasons beyond my comprehension, very self-conscious. I was surprised when actually spoke and jumped a little.

"How did you get here?" Half my mind was lulled by that smooth baritone, whilst the other half took a little while to process the question.

I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut and balling my hands up into fists, grinding them into my eye sockets.

"For God's sake," I muttered through clenched teeth, "we've been through this before." I took my hands away and poked him in the nose, "I don't know."

"I think you do," he grasped my hand and pulled it away from his face, but he didn't let it go, "I think you're just supressing it."

"And if I am?" I raised an eyebrow, "What are you going to do about it?"

He frowned. "I suppose I can take you to someone who can help to speed up your recovery," His eyes closed and he let out a weary sigh, "looks like I'll have to tell the others."

"Please," I started, my voice dull with tiredness, "I just want to go home."

"Don't we all," I barely caught that murmur, or the sadness which quickly washed over his face before it was replaced again with cool neutrality.

He stood up, offering a hand down to me, which I took. I yelped when he literally pulled me to my feet, the momentum causing me to slam into him. I quickly stepped back, muttering an apology and scowling when I heard his snicker at my flaming cheeks.

A few heartbeats later and I was once more sitting astride him, this time venturing with more grace and steadiness to where the rest of the group was waiting. By the time we arrived, the sky was rapidly changing from ink-black to watery yellow towards the east. I yawned, slipping my legs over Faeldryn's hindquarters and barely keeping myself from collapsing to the ground in fatigue. I was so out of it that I barely registered Goat-lady catching me before I fell to the ground.

"Look at her, the poor thing!" she clucked, "Mordaan! Come over here and help me. I think she's still injured."

"She's fine, Davina," The heavily accented bass tickled my ears, "she just needs rest. Now put her down and let her sleep."

I felt Goat-lady, no, Davina, sigh. She gently lowered me onto a soft blanket and swaddled me like an infant. The last thing I saw before I fell into sleep were her bright eyes looking worriedly into my own.

'Tomorrow's going to be fun,' I thought, feeling my body go numb.

Sleep swept me up and I became lost to it.

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So there you have it, the [It's about time] second instalment of the scéal. I do have an excuse for the woefully slow progress. I'm currently in University reading for a degree and I've only really been pecking away at the keyboard in my spare time. I know I'll get a lot of flac for not having updated very often but I'll try my hardest to not upset too many people. I'll also be going back over previous chapters as I go along with the story just to work the kinks out in either narrative or general plot. As I said before, please leave a review and let me know if you find any mistakes, plotholes or whatnot. I can only learn if I have the chance to correct myself. Chapter Three is in the making and I hope to have it up and ready more quickly than I did with Chapter two.

Little note:

Púca, {pronounced _poo-ka_ }, is the Irish word for 'Ghost,' but originally was used to describe faries. These particular faries had shapeshifting abilities, changing from goats to hares to horses and to rabbits, all of which would be black in colour with red eyes. They were known and feared for their love of tormenting and playing tricks on humans.


	3. Dalaran

Author's Note: I don't, under any circumstances, own the game World of Warcraft, its works, nor any other such related works/games/books. I make no profit from this story.

Here's the third instalment of this story. Sorry for the long wait between chapters, I'm doing my best to balance things {As well as do battle with the fiend that is Writer's Block}. I do my best to get the fourth chapter up without too much hassle, and let's hope you like this one in the meantime.

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Chapter Three: Dalaran

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"Ouch!" I exclaimed, sucking on my finger, "for crying out loud! Stupid effing..."

Grumbling and muffled cursing emerged from my mouth as I continued to work the needle through the thick awkwardness that was cured hide. My hands and fingertips still stung from the amount of times I'd accidently used them as pincushions. Despite my mishaps, I was slowly but surely improving. I didn't want to let this particular article of clothing go to waste, like the five other attempts I'd made so far, so I went at the next bit of stitching with gusto. Perhaps a little too much gusto.

"Shit!" I spat, stabbing myself yet again with the needle.

"Careful now," the amiable voice of Faeldryn teased from somewhere behind me, "do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"Ooooh," I parroted sarcastically "Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" I scowled, stabbing the poor, innocent leather with a vigorous viciousness. "I'll kiss you in a minute if you're not careful," I muttered darkly, under my breath. Hopefully he didn't hear it.

"Oh?" He hummed by my ear, making me jump. Damn that chap was fast _and_ sneaky. "This is a new one," he continued. I tightened my grip on the needle, "are you sure you'd go through with that promise, little one?"

My hand clenched into a fist, once more causing the needle to dive into my skin. I drew in a deep breath, my ears and cheeks flushing bright, tomato red. Annoyance, chagrin and uncomfortable heat stirred within me from the feeling of his warm breath ghosting over my ear. I jabbed an elbow behind me, just missing him. Yes, not just sneaky, but slippery as well. My mouth tightened into a severe line when I heard his quiet chuckle as he went back to whatever he was doing.

"I swear to God..." I muttered to myself again, attacking the vest once more, not caring for the quality of the stitching anymore.

"You'll swear to God, what?" He asked, a smile in his voice from somewhere behind me.

"Shut up." I groaned, dropping the leathers and covering my eyes with my palms. "I can't be dealing with you right now. You've made me ruin another fecking vest."

"Oh, I'm sure you did that yourself," his tone was low and mischievous. I heard the tell-tale scraping of a blade slicing through skin. "All I did was talk."

"Yeah, talk and creep up around me, whispering into my ear," I rubbed my eyes and stood up, gathering my belongings and shoved them into my kit bag.

Faeldryn looked over his shoulder as I walked by. I made the mistake of glancing over at him. The deftness and agile way he moved his hands as he skinned a clutch of rabbits made me falter in my footsteps. He wielded that knife so easily, effortlessly parting the skin from the muscle underneath.

Seeming to notice my ogling, he looked up and winked, grinning, his bright eyes lidded slyly. The gesture sent my innards writhing with restlessness. I flushed, heat pooling somewhere below my belly, quickly stepping away and fleeing to where my tent was pitched up. With a sigh of relief, though not full contentment as the trickster was only a few metres away, I sat on my bedroll.

'Surely he's doing this to me on purpose,' I thought, covering my eyes with my forearm and lying flat out on the padded bedding. 'I mean, it's not like he'd take a liking to me in _that_ way.'

When we had come back to the camp and after I'd had a good two days' worth of rest, I'd rather uncomfortably come to terms with the fact that I was in a completely different world. It had taken a long while and a lot of patience, especially on Davina's part, to keep me from going full Loony on it all. I'd learned that Davina and Mordaan, siblings, were here for the same reason as Faeldryn, Alysria and Fenrich.

They were here to close a demonic portal and save their world from total annihilation.

Yeah, I really didn't belong here. As it had turned out, I'd not needed to visit someone to root around in my brains and dig up my memories. I'd just needed a few days to settle down and come to terms with what had been happening. I had, however, managed to tell them all that I knew around the campfire during dinner and when I mentioned the heavy metal angel/elf person, Faeldryn's face had darkened, but I hadn't a chance to inquire further as he had begun to make plans as for what to do with me.

There had been a lot of chatter back and forth between the group and I'd really started to worry for my future. Would they leave me by the roadside? Would I be able to get home? What if I had to stay here for the rest of my life? What would I do then? Flashes of memory slipped through my mind, each scene playing like a short film.

"Let's bring her to Dalaran first of all," Mordaan had boomed, silencing the babble, "the mages will probably be able to help her there."

"Sounds like a plan," Fenrich had mumbled around a hunk of meat, "what do we do with her for the meantime? She can't just sit on her ass all day."

"Hey!"

"She also needs a wash," Alysria had snipped, looking me up and down with her nose wrinkled, "She smells. And she needs new clothes. Those ones are so tacky."

I'd puffed up like a blowfish but my would-be snappy retort was interrupted by Faeldryn.

"I'll give her something to do," he'd turned his head around to me, "can you sew?" He'd asked, chomping on his portion of venison and swigging something from a bottle.

"Yes," I'd replied, "but not terribly well."

The elf had shrugged, "It'll do."

"What am I going to be doing that has to do with sewing?" I'd asked warily.

"I'm going to teach you how to make clothes." He'd said simply, as if it was as easy as teaching someone how to change a tyre.

"Oooh you're lucky!" Davina had nudged me with her elbow from where she sat to the left of me. "The Kaldorei are the best leatherworkers on Azeroth. You'll make a fortune selling your wares."

And so that's how I'd ended up sticking my fingers every day. For the two weeks that I'd been here, when I wasn't massacring hides, I'd made an effort to know a little more about my travel companions.

Davina was a Priest who focused her powers on combat as well as throwing a few healing spells here and there. Mordaan was a Paladin. He'd swayed more towards protection rather than full on zerg-kill-them-all combat and healing.

The two of them were Draenei, a benevolent race of beautiful aliens who had travelled through space for the past twenty-five thousand years, fleeing the wrath of Kil'jaeden, one of their former leaders and also a very powerful and prominent figure in their ultimate enemy; The Burning Legion. At least, they'd told me this, but I'd sort of lost them at the whole "Benevolent Aliens" bit.

The two weren't actually born on their home planet, Argus, but they did have a good number of years behind them. Oh yeah, and we're not talking thirties or forties now. We're talking thousands.

I'd sat with them as Davina had been scribbling something on a scrap of vellum and Mordaan had been polishing his armour. They'd literally just thrown it out like, 'Oh yeah, we're thousands of years old by the way. No biggie.'

"So," I'd begun, my voice wavering slightly, "Ye're what? One thousand, two thousand?" I'd tried my hardest not to lose it.

Davina had finished her writing and had been slipping the page into a leather bound journal of sorts before she answered. "I'm just under a thousand years. It's very young for a Draenei, actually."

"Right," I'd choked, "young. I can see that alright."

She'd beamed, "Aww, such a flatterer!" She'd pointed to Mordaan who'd finished polishing his armour and was tinkering with his shield. "Mordaan is one thousand two hundred years. Still young for a Draenei but much older than me."

I'd forgotten completely about the pair of britches I'd been trying to sew and ignored them when they'd slipped through my fingers. My attention had been on the two in front of me; Davina in her white cloth robes, now writing on more vellum, and Mordaan in a simple pair of leather trousers and shirt. The latter had finished with his shield and had met my gaze. I'd flushed, slightly ashamed that I'd been caught staring and had quickly scooped up my belongings to bid them farewell and mull over what I'd just learned.

Fenrich was a warrior and was also, like me, a human and was a rather surprising twenty-nine years of age. I still have no idea how I'd thought he was in his late thirties. It must be the scar, or just the grumpy demeanour.

He'd had completely different attitudes to me though, obviously, and I'd actually found him to be a pretty decent fellow. He was very chivalrous, but also rather blunt and upfront with his opinions and had no qualms in expressing them whenever and however he saw fit. If he'd been in my world he would have been labelled as racist, misogynistic and sexist as soon as he'd opened his mouth to the masses. I'd loved that about him.

It was refreshing almost to have constructive, intelligent conversation with a person who didn't constantly pander to Political Correctness or virtue-signal. When I'd asked him why he was here he'd pointed to his scar, the one presumably made by claws.

"See this?" He'd asked. I'd nodded, "This happened when I was fighting for my King, Varian Wrynn. A felhound got me, and it got me good, but I came out of there alive." His expression had darkened, the metal plates of his gauntlets had scraped against one another as he'd clenched his fists. "My king died that day, burned to cinders from the inside out by that piss-rotten green whoreson of an orc. Those demons got 'im and I'm sure as hell gonna get my revenge." A wry grin curled had his mouth and tugged on the jagged welts on his cheek. "Maybe I'll kill a few Horde too for payback from that Banshee bitch abandoning us."

"What did he do to inspire you so much?" I'd inquired, curious and a little uncertain in myself.

"He led us well, he fought well. He was a good man, a good king." Fenrich's mouth tightened, "probably the best king Stormwind ever had. His son however..." He'd trailed off, frowning out into the darkness and muttering, probably curses of some sort under his breath.

"What, is his son bad?" I'd asked, tentatively.

"No he's not bad," he'd looked me right in the eyes, conflict had swirled in his grey irises. "He's a good boy, but he's not his father."

"What do you mean?" I'd pressed. I'd been silenced by a look which had told me he hadn't wanted to relay any further.

So I'd left him alone, my own thoughts whirring. His Patriotism had touched something within me. I'd found myself questioning my attitude towards my dad and his Republican zealotry. I'd still hated him, but I suppose I'd begun to see why some people may become so stalwart in their beliefs or faith that they would give their lives to the cause.

'Maybe I handled that situation the wrong way,' I'd wondered as I'd sat in my tent, thinking about the final argument with my father before my world-hopping. 'I could have been more civil with him, or just done as he'd asked…'

A memory had surfaced then, of a view of my mother being whipped by a belt buckle, my father in a drunken rage. All of it seen through the slim crack of the wardrobe where Fionn had hidden me.

'No.' I'd angrily shaken my head, fists clenching, anger holding fast in my heart. 'He doesn't deserve my civility.' I hadn't slept well that night, plagued by nightmares of abuse seen through the eyes of a child, the helplessness which I'd felt even to this day still lingering.

Alysria, now she was a tricky one. I'd tried to strike up some small talk one evening after supper but she downright refused to look at me even. I'd grudgingly asked about her from Davina and the Draenei was only too happy to relay the blonde pointy-eared Barbie's story.

She was a rogue, an assassin of sorts. Garbed in those fitted black leathers and possessing agility enough to rival a jaguar, she'd asked Faeldryn to join his rag-tag group and he'd, to the utter surprise of his fellows, said yes. When I'd asked about the reaction of the rest of the group, Davina had explained that Night Elves and Blood Elves had had a long history of hatred for one another.

Blood Elves were steeped in magic, whereas Night Elves shunned the use of such practices, until recently. Even then it was only barely tolerated. Although the elf claimed she was with the Neutral group, The Steamwheedle Cartel, Fenrich and the two Draenei were still wary of her.

As Davina had said, Blood Elves are known for their cunning and viciousness. Given the chance they would hop from allegiance to allegiance if it suited their needs. I'd not known her age, neither had Davina, but I'd learned that Blood Elves had a history with humans which can caused them to hate us.

"Wait, hold on," I'd started, holding my hand up to the horned woman, "They've been hating on humans for _how_ long?"

She'd been sitting behind me, playing with my long hair, braiding it up in the fashion of her people.

"Oh, a little over ten years now. Since the Third War," she'd stated, rather blasé about the whole thing. The feel of her skilful hands gently teasing my locks had been very pleasant. "We Draenei aren't very fond of them either." I'd detected a frown in her hardening voice. "I guess we should be grateful in some way to them. They did manage to help us find Azeroth."

I'd raised my eyebrows. "That's good, I suppose."

"Yes," she'd separated a large portion of hair with delicate, clawed fingers. "Although they did it by hijacking our ship, slaughtering our brethren and attempting to commit genocide on us by opening a portal and picking us off whilst reinforcing their numbers."

"Ah," my eyes had widened. "That's not so good."

"No, it's not," Davina had combed out the braids and begun again. "But I've learned to see past that. They are decent folk once you see past the snobbishness, the fel taint and the sense of entitlement."

"Right," shudders had run up and down my spine, "I suppose I'd just be better off staying away from her then."

"Perhaps," she'd continued to put in another style, then another.

"Davina?" I'd asked.

"Yes?" She'd replied.

"Are you going to finish the hairdo?" I'd laughed.

"Maybe," She'd said coyly, drawing out the word. "Your hair is so soft! I can't help but touch it." I'd felt her hands run through it again. "Could you tell me your secret?"

"Maybe," I'd drawn the word out in the same playful way that she did. We'd both fallen about laughing.

And then there was Faeldryn. My pulse sped up a little when I thought about him. He was a druid, a 'feral' druid to be precise. I asked what it meant and the explanation was pretty simple; he turns into a big cat to fight and does damage in the form of bleeds and bites. I cringed at my reaction, the memory of the events thereafter causing my cheeks to flood with blood in chagrin.

"Hold on one cotton-picking moment," I'd exclaimed, holding my hands up, palms out, "You turn into a, what was it? A panther?"

Faeldryn had nodded, a smirk playing about his lips at my reaction. We'd been sitting side by side on a log, working. He'd been showing me how to stitch together a simple vest, and I'd been making a right pig's ear of it. I'd decided to ask him questions to divert his and my attention from my unfortunate case of 'stupid fingers.' It seemed to have worked, 'seemed to,' being the key word.

"Is it hard?" I'd asked.

"Is what?" He'd leaned back, folding his arms and cocking his head to the side, studying me now instead of my misshapen craftsmanship.

"The shapeshifting," I'd fiddled with my hands, waving them about as I'd talked, "does it hurt? Did it take you long to learn? Is just about anyone with magic able to switch back and forth between different forms?"

The questions had come out in a rush as I'd stared at the ground. "What's being a druid all about actually, because where I come from we haven't had fellas like them for millennia, and I'm thinking they were very different to what you're practicing."

The verbal slew had made him chuckle slightly. He'd tapped his nose, still smiling and made a small 'hmm.'

"Why don't I show you?" he'd said softly after nearly three minutes of contemplation. I'd tilted my head in curiosity and confusion, "It's better to show rather than tell, is it not?"

"Huh?" My brow had knitted in misunderstanding.

"You stay here," he'd stood and walked back a few paces before turning to face me again. I'd done as I was told and waited.

He'd breathed deeply and closed his eyes. Nothing had happened for the barest of seconds but I'd picked up on an edgy feeling. It was like there was an electric current charging the air around us. It'd left me feeling more than a little restless and jumpy.

When my attention had turned again to the elf I'd gasped in shock. His entire frame had warped and shrunk in on itself, like what happens to a soft drink can when you crush it. Nearly thirty seconds had passed and the man was gone, replaced by what can only be described as one of the most beautiful and terrifying specimens I'd laid eyes on.

The huge feline had padded in my direction, its movement's fluid. The sunlight had shimmered on its silken indigo fur, making me want to run my fingers through it. The deep colour of the fur had been interrupted by light, lavender symbols on its shoulders and slash markings zig-zagging vertically over its eyes.

On his chest was a patch of soft, pastel-pink fur which continued along his belly and dusted the tip of his paws and tail. A small necklace of some sort had been strung around his neck and bracers around his wrists and ankles had peeked out from under his thick coat. Those eyes, now shining a bright white, had held an eerie intelligence. Against my will, I'd sat frozen in place, transfixed. I'd swallowed nervously when he'd stopped in front of me, just staring at me.

I should have been afraid. Heck, it was probably unhealthy that I wasn't afraid and there was a huge, big panther right in front of me. Maybe it was because I'd known that it was Faeldryn and I'd trusted him enough not to hurt me.

His tail had flicked languidly behind him. In a single, sinuous motion, he'd yawned and stretched. I'd been able to see the muscles bunching at his shoulders and flanks, even covered up as they were. When he'd straightened, he'd gazed at me through eyes lidded at half-mast. I'd frowned and tilted my head when I'd heard…was that?

Good Lord, he was purring.

Maybe he's just a big old softie after all.

'Yeah, you've known him for what? Three, four days?' My more logical side had berated, 'Your naivety will trip you up.'

"Uhhh…" I'd awkwardly held up my hand, wanting to pet him of all things, "good kitty?"

Faeldryn had growled and crouched down, his tail whipping back and forth.

"Fuck! I didn't mean it like that." Scrambling backwards I'd held my hands out in a gesture to placate him, "good kitty, don't attack. Please!"

In the span of a heartbeat I'd been bombarded by a weighty, furry mass. My breath had left me as I'd hit the ground with an almighty thump. My eyes, which had squeezed shut on impact, gingerly cracked open. A furry muzzle was all I'd been able to see. My breath came in strained pants, restricted by the massive weight of the animal on top of me. I pushed up against him, trying to move him off. He grunted and lifted a little to my relief.

'I can breathe again!'

That relief was short-lived however as he'd sighed and flopped on top of me once more. I'd made a strangled squawk, wriggling in desperation to rid myself of this burden.

"Faeldryn!" I'd huffed, spitting out a mouthful of fur, "get off me now." When he didn't react I'd growled and poked at him. "Get off now or I'll pull your whiskers!"

A raspy growl had escaped him. He'd not moved an inch.

"You think I'm kidding," I'd moved my hands to the side of his face, reaching for the wiry hairs. "I mean it you know."

You know what he did next? He'd lifted his paws and caught my hands, pinning them down either side of my head. I'd struggled again, but he had an almighty grip on me. What he did after that had shocked me even more. I'd felt something wet and raspy scrape the side of my face. It was his tongue. He'd started licking me!

"What the - ?" I'd spluttered. "Faeldryn, what the hell? The fuck are you doing?" I'd bucked from underneath him, "quit licking me you fecking moggie and get. Off!"

The licking had stopped and I'd felt the same eerie sensation as when he'd first shifted. The furry feline disappeared, leaving behind a very mischievous-looking elf. I'd only then realised the position the two of us were in; me below him, his large frame pinning me down and his own hips straddling mine. My face had gone red with fright and embarrassment. I'd lost any capacity for speech and I could only stare wordless into his eyes, mortified with the whole situation.

"So," his deep voice had the consistency of velvet, "you were going to pull my whiskers, hmmm?" He'd tilted his head to the side, that long hair of his had fallen down from his back, creating an almost curtain around us. "That's not very nice, is it?"

I'd tried to answer and tell him to jump the eff off me but all that had come out was a dry squeak, further enforcing my embarrassment.

He'd chuckled, bringing his face down to my neck, pressing his mouth against the vulnerable spot under my jaw. "I think you're a much nicer person than that, don't you?" His hot breath and the softness of his mouth had made my skin tingle. "Yes, you're much nicer than I first thought." His tongue had flickered out and ran up from my jugular, all the way to my ear. "Are you as sweet on the inside as you are on the outside?" He'd crooned into the delicate shell of my ear, "I can't wait to find out." He'd nipped the sensitive skin, which had made me jump and cry out in a sound half way between a gasp and a moan. I couldn't get any hotter or I'd spontaneously combust.

'Oh please God, what in the world is happening?' I'd wanted to yell and scream and throw him off of me. I'd longed for the privacy of my tent. My entire body had felt like it was lit on fire. His fingers, which were entwined with my own, tightened their grip. I'd felt a rush of heat and electricity zing through me when he'd shifted his weight, his pelvis pressing into mine for the briefest of seconds. I'd felt my already racing pulse quicken even more as his mouth had moved down my jaw, stopping to rest at the corner of my mouth.

'Don't tell me he's going to - '

Right before I'd had my first kiss stolen, or anything even more precious taken, we'd been interrupted by the sound of heavy footfalls coming back to camp. The man above had me sighed, leaning back and releasing my hands from his. As soon as I'd felt the pressure lift, I'd shot out from under him and zipped to my tent like a bat out of Hell.

"Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my GOD!" My body had started shaking like I was afflicted with hypothermia. "What the fuck just happened?"

'What the fuck indeed,' I thought, brought back to the present when I heard the source of my chagrin speaking with Fenrich.

To say I was confused by his behaviour would be an understatement. I was downright baffled. Thinking back to the way he'd treated me the night I arrived and the fevered delirium thereafter, I saw no reason whatsoever which may have triggered a U-turn in personality.

He'd nearly hated me from the way he teased and made snarky comments, laughing with Alysria about my clumsiness and the extra weight I carried around. What made it even worse was the bastard acted as though the whole panther-pouncing-nearly-kissing incident didn't happen at all, and when he'd leaned over me to show me a new stich the next morning I'd nearly had a panic attack. To my fury, he'd then begun to lecture me about self-control.

"As if!" I exclaimed under my breath, "The person who needs the most self-control is that big blue eejit. Fecking humping me like that brown bull." I rummaged through my pack, a gift from Mordaan after I'd recounted the fact that I'd lost all my belongings. "Who the hell does he think he is?"

"Who does who think he is?" I whipped my head around, calming when I saw Davina holding the tent flap back and peeping in.

"Oh, hi Davina." I turned back to my pack and jammed the half-made jerkin inside, pulling out a journal and handing it to her. "Here's that book of yours back. Thanks for lending it to me."

"Ah, wonderful." She plucked the volume from my grasp and rifled through the pages. "Did you find it useful in any way?"

I nodded, smiling. "Oh yes." I gestured that she come in and sit down beside me. "The history of this place is so interesting."

The Draenei delicately sat, curling her hooved legs underneath her. "Anything else?" Her crusted brow frowning. "Nothing you were looking for specifically?"

I sighed. "No, nothing at all like that I'm afraid." I picked at my fingernails. "Looks like I'll be going through every fecking book in this world before I can get back home." My mouth puckered into a hard line in annoyance.

I stopped my fidgeting when Davina laid her large, blue-skinned hand over my own. "We'll work it out," she reassured me, those starry eyes filled with concern and comfort. "Don't worry. I'm sure once we get to Dalaran we'll be closer to finding the truth. The best mages in Azeroth are there."

I gave her a wan smile. "I suppose you're right." She tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and returned my smile, albeit with a little more vim and vigour. "I'm really hoping what happened to me wasn't so much as a fluke as it as a rare occurrence. If it's a fluke then I'm screwed, pretty much."

"We'll get you home." She ruffled my hair, making me hoot and slap her hand away. "Come on, I think the food is nearly cooked."

I undid my braid and combed through my hair with my fingers. "Hold up there, missus." I smiled at her rambunctious laughter as she sat down once more. "Come on," I turned my back to her, "you messed it, you fix it."

"Alright, alright." Her voice smiling, her hands gentle.

Quick as a wink my hair was nicely braided again and we were sitting side by side before a roaring fire. The rabbit was delicious, the Faronaar Fizz that Fenrich had made was even more so. I gladly washed all the food down with a few sips of Sea Breeze, a rather strong, yet delicious beverage. Perhaps I had a little too much too quickly because soon I was hiccupping and giggling, leaning against Davina for support.

Fenrich stared me down over the rim of his tankard. "Weak!" He boomed, chugging down whatever he was drinking.

I stuck my tongue out at him, childishly. "Bet ya I can keep up wich'ya!" I burbled, now slurping the strong wine.

"Hah!" He exclaimed. "What's the wager?"

"What'cha want?" I asked.

He blinked, pondering and rubbing his chin. A sly grin appeared as he thought a little more.

Davina frowned down at me. "Aoibheann, don't you think you've had enough to drink?"

I blinked owlishly up at her. "I'm only being true to my stereotype…hic!"

"I've got it." My attention went back to Fenrich. "If I win, when you're sober, you have to give me a kiss."

A hush settled over the group. My eyes narrowed and my brow furrowed as I mulled over the deal.

I grinned. "Done!"

"Right." The human held his cup up. "Let's get started. Mordaan," the big blue fellow gave Fenrich a toothy grin, "you keep tabs on us."

"Okay," he chuckled, laughing raucously and slapping his thigh when he noticed his sister's bewildered expression. "Davina, don't act so surprised. You knew something like this would happen sooner or later."

"Look at her!" She gestured to me, already chugging a second tankard.

'Lord this stuff is strong.' I mused, liking the fiery trail it made going down my throat. 'I wish they had stuff like this at home.' My head felt like it was full of helium, all light and full of air. I hiccupped, nearly falling off the log. Glancing at Fenrich, I noticed he barely looked affected at all. He gave me a devilish smile, upending his tankard and filling it up again.

"Davina," I heard Mordaan say sternly, "you're not her mother or her keeper."

"I know that but -"

"Then stop acting like it."

She sighed. "Fine," glancing at me, "If you have a bad head tomorrow, don't come to me for help."

I gulped the last of my second and moved onto my third tankard. "Pffft," I patted her shoulder, "us Irish know how to hould our drink. I'll be grand so. Ye'll see."

"Uh-huh." She chuckled to herself and shook her head. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

"G'night." I gargled, immediately becoming caught in a hiccupping fit, causing her and Mordaan to break out in loud, absurd laughter. It only made matters worse because I dissolved into giggles.

I continued to down tankard after tankard, stoically refusing to let myself slow. He kept smirking at me until he and I were beginning to feel the not-so-nice effects of the drink. One of which was the insistent need to relieve myself.

I tried to ignore it as I downed yet another tankard, my head full of air and my voice as loud as the warrior's. Alas, the Call of Nature is as persistent as one would imagine and I rose up to do my business in the dark.

"Where do ya think you're going?" The man bellowed, waving his empty accoutrement. "We have drinking to do. Unless," he puffed his chest up and gave me a bawdy grin, "you're that desperate for a kiss?"

I raised my eyebrows and smirked at him, laughter from Mordaan, Faeldryn and even Alysria spurring me on. "Sweetie, I don't need to get you drunk to ask for a kiss, much less take one from you."

With that I turned my heel, hurrying to a bush a good way away from camp, laughter still ringing in my ears. I found a good spot and hopped from one leg to the other as I fumbled with the ties on my leather britches.

"C'mon. C'mon. C'mon. Yes!"

Trousers undone and down, I did my business and whistled to cover up the noise. Once again I had fun trying to tie up the trousers. They were comfortable and all, and I was very grateful to Faeldryn giving them to me. But they were so fiddly, especially in the dark. I straightened my leather jerkin, yet another gift from Faeldryn, and made my way, albeit wobbly, back to the light of the fire.

The clothes I'd worn when I arrived had been washed and I'd stored them in my pack. Faeldryn had given me these sturdier garments because, in his words anyway, my clothes had about as much protection as if I'd been wearing none at all. I kept my bra though. That was a necessity.

A soft footstep just behind me caused me to falter in my stride. Not all-there nor quite sure what was going on, I turned around. My body, which had tensed up, relaxed when I saw who was behind me. Then it tensed up again in recognition of the person.

I took a step back. "What's wrong?" I asked him, "Did I take too long or something?"

He stepped forwards, eyes glowing the colour of honey, dusting his cheeks with soft, amber hues. "No," he murmured softly, moving closer to me, "I just wanted to ask you something."

"Oh." I took another step back. "What was that?"

Closer again, "why did you agree to that?"

I moved further away, only to have my back connect with a tree trunk. "Agree to what?" I frowned, thinking, "Oh, you mean that bet...hic!" My face screwed up as I squinted at him suspiciously. "What about the bet?" I asked.

I started when his hand came down onto the trunk beside my head.

He leaned against the tree, slouching slightly and brought his face close to my own. "Yes." His expression was unreadable. "Why did you agree to that?"

I shrugged. "Just a bit of fun y'know." My brows furrowed when I saw his expression darken. "Why do you care anyway? It's not like you have feelings for me or anything."

His mouth tightened into a hard line, what looked like hurt flashing through his eyes before his features lapsed back into that cocky smirk. "You know what?" He grasped my chin with his index finger and thumb, tilting my face up to his. "I think you're right." He glanced me up and down, "I mean, it's not like you're very appealing in that sense."

My breath came out in a quick gasp. "Well then," I said, my insides twisting up something sour, "could you lay off with the constant teasing and just let me alone then?"

He smiled, showing off those pearly white teeth. Very sharp, with very long canines poking out from under his upper lip. "Hmmm, I don't know about that." I squeaked, shocked when he buried his face into the crook of my neck, trapping me against the tree trunk with his body.

"What-what are you doing?" I pushed against him, whimpering when his arms snaked around me, locking my body to his. I could feel every inch of him, clad in that fitted leather. "Faeldryn, this isn't funny." A harsh gasp escaped me when he nuzzled the juncture between my neck and shoulder, lipping the soft spot just above my collarbone.

"You're so sweet," he crooned, inhaling deeply. He pulled back and threaded his fingers through my braided hair, once more turning my face up to him.

"I asked you to stop!" I exclaimed, glaring ferociously into his golden eyes. He was still smiling viciously, those fangs peeking out making him seem more predatory. I didn't like it. My fists clenched in anger, my body trembling. "What's your problem, man?" I spat, indignant, "Don't you understand the concept of consent or something? Could you please quit teasing me?"

He gave a short chuckle, releasing me. I backed away.

"I can't promise I'll stop," he called out as I stomped passed him, towards my tent. I turned to face him, crossing my arms and tapping my foot.

"And why is that now?"

I stood still as he swaggered over, leaning down and giving me one of the biggest shit-eating grins I'd seen since that cocky bastard of a classmate, Robbie Byrne. I'd suffered numerous grievances during my fourth year in Secondary School from that boy.

"You know what, Evie?" I bristled when he used my nickname. It had far too much familiarity attached to it.

"What?" I asked testily, curling my lip.

He pulled me to him, locking an arm around my back. I jumped and tried to wiggle out of his hold. When that didn't work I cried out in agitation. My brow furrowed and my face twisted into a mask of rage, glaring hotly at him.

He gave me a predatory, fanged grin, licking his lips. "I just love watching you squirm." Before I could react he grabbed my face between his two hands and pressed his mouth against mine in a fierce, harsh kiss. It lasted barely a second but it was enough.

My mind collapsed. My eyes widened, lips parted, my breath short. The strength fled from my legs, leaving me to crumple to the ground as soon as he released his grip. I felt him play with my plait and heard him as if from a distance just before he left me there.

"We'll be going to Dalaran tomorrow morning. Be sure you're up or you'll be left behind."

The heavy weight of my hair thumped against my back as he let my hair go. I just about heard his lithe footsteps as he walked to his tent. I sat there, hunched over myself. I could barely breathe, let alone think about what had just happened.

My chest felt tight. A knot formed in my stomach, tightening more and more with each breath, making me feel sick. Tears burned behind my eyes, wanting to push out and fall against the grass which I was currently clawing at unbeknownst to me. It was a few minutes at least before my brain kicked itself back into gear and I finally processed what had just happened to me.

Shame and fear were burned away by a scorching wave of anger. My shoulders trembled as I clenched my fists in rage, the fury making me feel stronger. How dare he!

"The bastard just kissed me." I whispered, launching myself to my feet, my face a mask of rage, ready to tear down the elf's tent and give him a good thrashing. "Not only that, but he assaulted me." I began to march, hurt lodging in my chest, its spikes piercing me all the way through. "Oh Faeldryn you'll fucking pay for this, you tie-dyed, flop-eared bitch!" I snarled, teeth bared and ready to unleash the pain I was feeling.

Just before I reached the bounds of the campsite, I saw Mordaan sitting on a log, gazing contemplatively into the last embers of the now-dying campfire. He looked up when he heard me, smiling.

"Ah, Aoibheann." He patted the wood beside him. My current dishevelled state didn't seem to bother him in the slightest. "Come, sit with me. You look as if you have something on your mind."

I blinked a couple of times, my rage fading a little at the warm sound of his voice, before wending my way over to him. Ashamed at my outburst and wondering if he heard it, I perched on the log, staring down into the ashes. I could feel those white eyes on me, scrutinising.

"So," he shifted, his heavy tail slipping on the rough bark and swinging gently to and fro behind us. "What's the matter?"

I bit my lip. "Which one were you referring to?"

He chuckled, "What has you troubled right now?"

I was silent. He sighed, placing a warm hand on my shoulder. I looked tentatively up at him. At least I wasn't flinching anymore at the sight of his rugged crest of bone and horn, the tendrils or those starry eyes.

"I can only help if you talk," the corner of his mouth crooked into a gentle smile. "Talking does help, you know."

I grimaced. "Well," my head ducked down, studying the suddenly interesting ground. "It's about…" I felt a squeeze on my shoulder. "It's, it's Faeldryn."

"Ah." His tone was heavy.

My whipped around. "You've had trouble with him?" I questioned, my eyes wide.

He chuckled wryly. "Trouble? Not really." He ran a hand through his hair, chewing on his lip before answering. "It's more like he's got troubles of his own."

"Oh." I twiddled my thumbs, scoffing. "He sure has a way of dealing with them." I muttered, my face twisting to a frown.

"What did he do?" Mordaan asked, frowning. "Did he hurt you?"

I sighed deeply, biting my lip. "Not really." Mordaan cleared his throat beside me, tapping his hoof on the ground. 'Not really' didn't seem to cut it. I sighed again. "He's been…difficult."

"In what way?" His tail swung up and landed between us with a dull thump.

"He, well," I struggled to find the words. My discomfort stemmed from the fact that Faeldryn's very physical interactions were rather personal. "He's been teasing me a lot and uhh, well..." I trailed off, my cheeks burning.

Mordaan turned to me, scrutinising my expression. "What do you mean by 'teasing'?" He frowned when I grimaced and picked at my nails, my feet shuffling on the ground.

I took a breath, holding it for a few seconds and releasing it in a rush. "It's, y'know." I wringed my hands, "he's been really touchy-feely and it made me feel really uncomfortable." I lifted my head to look at him, tears stinging my eyes. "This evening he," My voice wobbled. "He kissed me," I whispered immediately covering my face with my hands. "Before that, last week, he jumped me. The bastard _licked_ me and he pretended it didn't even happen!" I ended with a squeak, my tone teetering on the edge of a sob.

"Ah," his heavy tone said it all. The hand on my shoulder moved so he had his arm around me. "Aoibheann," I had squeezed my eyes shut and was desperately trying not to cry. "It's okay. Come here."

My resolve crumbled when he pulled me to him in a hug. I muffled my cries against his rough shirt, my body shaking like a leaf. He gently rubbed my back and rocked me back and forth, whispering 'it's okay,' and 'it'll get better,' and 'you're safe now.' I felt an almost parental warmth coming from him, something I hadn't felt from my father since I was a toddler. That made me hurt even more.

 _ **.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.**_

The next morning was a bitch. My head felt like a blacksmith's anvil, hammering and pounding. I groaned and groggily opened my eye, hissing at the brightness of the sun peeking through the flap of my tent. Trust me to fall asleep in the one place to be blinded.

'First things first, I really need a drink of water.' I thought groggily as I felt how dry my mouth was and how heavy my tongue sat inside.

Muttering and stomping could be heard from outside. I lay there for a couple of seconds, waiting for my brain to wake up when I remembered the events of last night.

"Oh, Jesus wept." I moaned, covering my face in shame and feeling my ears turn red with chagrin. "Poor Mordaan, I hope he's okay."

That man, or Draenei, my God, He was far too kind. After my crying fit I'd felt the sudden need to become reacquainted with the contents of my stomach. He'd held my hair back from my face when I gave the bushes unnecessary fertiliser.

Even after having apologised profusely at the state of his shirt, covered in salt and a little bit of snot, he'd been completely fine with the fact that I'd just thrown up in front of him.

"I've been around humans long enough to have experienced this kind of behaviour," he'd said, brushing the whole incident off with a dismissive wave of his arm. "You'd better go and get some sleep now, we'll be up early in the morning."

At that point I'd wanted nothing more than to have the ground open up under my feet and swallow me whole. With a pained stretch I sat up, my face twisting wretchedly at the sour taste in my mouth.

'I'm never drinking again,' I thought blearily gathering my things up for one last wash before we hit the road. 'I mean it this time.'

Tentatively I poked my head out, spitting at the sun like an angry cat, and made my way to the small waterfall a little way away from the camp. Once there I undressed, washed and dried my shivering body.

The water was refreshing, but also freezing. Not even my extra blubber was good enough to keep all the heat in. As I was putting some clean clothes on, I looked down at myself just before I put the dark leather jerkin around my shoulders.

My belly stuck out over the waistband of the britches, sitting soft and squishy like a marshmallow. I poked at the wan skin, dotted here and there with freckles. I sucked it in, wishing that it was like that all the time. Feeling an all-too familiar pained insecurity when I let my breath back out, I let it return to its regular squidgy state. Quickly, I covered up again with a light cotton shirt under the jerkin, before pulling the leather ties closed.

"Well if it isn't the spotted dumpling." A slippery voice whispered in my ear. I jumped and turned, twitching slightly when I noticed it was Alysria. The elf was standing still as a statue and as per usual I hadn't heard a single footstep.

"Hello to you too," I muttered, picking up my things and squinting at her suspiciously. "You're using some nice vocabulary this morning." I tilted my head nodding and tapping my finger against my chin. "'Spotted dumpling,' now that's one for future reference."

She snickered, folding her arms and slinging her hip to the side, accentuating that lovely figure of hers. "You're ridiculous." I scoffed at that. "Anyway," she studied her nails dismissively, "Faeldryn sent me to tell you to get your butt down to camp." I froze at the sound of his name. "We're leaving. Don't be late or you'll get left behind."

"Sure I'll be down in a minute." I responded, occupying myself with folding my clothes and trying not to look at her. "You go ahead, I'll catch up."

She 'humphed' and sashayed down the trail which led out from the bushes and back to the camp. I could hear her muttering something under her breath. With a small puff of a breath I gathered up the last of my things and followed the elf. When I arrived back at the now former campsite, everything except for my tent was packed away and on people's backs. I looked at my stuff with trepidation.

"Oh boy," I whispered, wondering how on earth I was going to organise everything. "Right, first things first, get the auld tent sorted I suppose."

I took out my bag and bedroll and began to slowly dismantle my tent. It didn't go so well. With a squeal like a stuck pig I took down the wrong post and the whole thing fell down on top of me. I flailed, trapped in the rough fabric, trying to get out for want of air. Someone grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and pulled me out. I looked back to see Fenrich, fighting a laugh, holding me with one hand as easily as I would a cat.

"Oh." I said simply, my face going red. "Th-thanks Fenrich."

"No problem," he guffawed. I ducked my head ashamedly as he lowered me to the ground. "Do you want some help?"

"I would appreciate that, yes." I mumbled, fidgeting. When I looked at him again he had an understanding smile on his face.

"Here," he knelt and gathered everything up neatly, "you put this here, and that goes there…"

Within the span of a few minutes I was all packed up and ready to go.

"Thank you Fenrich." I chirped, ready to get going and to, hopefully, be on my way home.

I moved to join the others who were waiting. Faeldryn looked rather impatient to get going. I'd only taken a few steps before an arm slunk around my middle. A set of lips brushed my ear. I froze.

"Ah-ah-ah," the warrior said softly, "remember our bet?"

"Uhh, bet?" I frowned, wracking my brains. A light dinged somewhere in my head when I found out what he was talking about. "Oh." I breathed, my stomach tightening. " _That_ bet."

"Mhmmm." He crooned, sounding pleased with himself. "You owe me a kiss, darlin'."

I stood there trying to find a loophole.

'A kiss, we agreed on a kiss,' I told myself, turning to face him. He had an excited twinkle to his grey eye. His gaze was fixed on my mouth. 'What can I do?' My mouth opened as I clucked my tongue, tilting my head to the side, pondering on the situation. Fenrich licked his lips in anticipation. I smirked as an idea formed in my mind. 'We agreed on a kiss, so I'll give him a kiss.'

"Close your eyes," I murmured softly with a smile. He did as he was told, waiting. "A kiss we agreed on, and so a kiss you'll have."

I leaned forwards slowly. He drew in a breath, his hands sliding up my arms to hold onto my shoulders. Ever so gently, I pressed my lips against his unscarred cheek. I lingered a moment before pulling away, blushing. The man opened his eyes and pouted.

"I thought we agreed on a kiss!" He complained, frowning. "That wasn't a proper kiss." He stared me down, demanding an explanation, which I gladly gave.

I tapped him on the nose, grinning. "Oh yes we did but," I tweaked his nose. "You never stated where, so I got to choose that."

His eyes narrowed. "Cheater," he muttered, releasing me and stomping away to join the others.

I giggled and trailed after him, thanking God for my sudden inspiration. We set off down an old cobbled road overgrown with moss and weeds. Every few metres the remains of a small fence popped up. Lined either side and at alternating intervals were what looked to be lampposts, although I couldn't see any lights.

The area around us was a sea of grass, disturbed here and there by gnarled, twisted trees and rugged outcrops of rock. The sun shone down from a patchy blue sky. To our right, a huge cliff arose. I could just make out an elegant tower perched on its summit.

So entranced was I by our surroundings that I didn't notice the party had stopped. I collided with Faeldryn's broad back with a surprised 'Oof!' and fell backwards onto my posterior. The elf looked down at me from over his shoulder, his amber eye winking in the sunlight.

"Clumsy oaf," he mocked, flashing a pearly tooth in a grin.

I glared at him. "Conceited flop-ears." I shot back, standing and dusting off my backside.

He chuckled and walked forwards. Mordaan gave me a concerned look but I shook my head. I was fine with words. It was just the physical stuff I became a little helpless with. I blamed my unresponsiveness on my lack of life experience with the opposite sex.

The paladin nodded and turned, following the druid to the object of the sudden halt. I strolled up with them and gasped when I set eyes on what they'd stopped for.

There was an elven woman standing before us. Her skin was a dusky lavender in colour, her hair the colour of a polished amethyst, and it shone like one in the sunlight too. It was left to fall freely around her shoulders all the way to her hips. She was clothed in a delicately embroidered dress which hugged her graceful figure. But it wasn't the elf who had my attention, as stunning as she was.

It was the creature which sat beside her in a box filled with straw.

It had the forequarters of a bird. Its plumage was a mix of light green around its head and chest area, fading to a gentle mauve everywhere else, with the primary feathers of its wings boating a dark lilac. A gnarled, fierce beak snapped and clicked as it cocked its head, looking at us with a beady, glowing, blue eye. Sprouting from its crown were a pair of spindly antlers which twisted and turned their way from its head. Its hindquarters were that of a horse with a lavender coat and tassels of feathers sprouting either side of the tail. It was magnificent.

"Ishnu'alah," the woman greeted, bowing. "How may I help?"

"We'd like to go to Dalaran please," Faeldryn told her, handing her some gold coins.

The lady nodded and clucked to the animal. It squawked and rose, flapping its wings once, twice, and stretching languidly. It hopped swiftly out of its box and landed beside Faeldryn, making a series of chirruping sounds.

He scratched its head and mounted it, sitting up on it like a horse. He walked it over to me, reaching a hand down to me. I flinched and backed away, not missing the frown that passed over his features before a mask of neutrality emerged and washed away any other emotion.

He led the beast away from us, stopping just before he reached the road and turned the beast. With a cry he spurred it and the creature began to run. After a few swift paces it hopped, unfurled its wings and on the second hop it took off, the sound of the feathers pummelling the air loud in my ears.

My mouth hung open in awe at the sight. In less than a minute the two were gone, circling higher and higher, gaining altitude until they finally disappeared in the distance. I only noticed then a large, round something suspended in mid-air. It was close enough to be visible but still far enough away so that minute details couldn't be distinguished.

"Aoibheann." My attention was taken by Davina who called me. She didn't seem to have noticed my odd behaviour. "Come on, are you going to Dalaran or what?"

"Huh?" I said stupidly, not knowing what to do.

"Come here," she grabbed my arm and led me to one of the creatures. "Take this hippogryph and fly up to Dalaran. It's simple."

"Woah, woah, woah," I stammered, straining against her. "Hold on. Fly?" I shook my head adamantly, warily eyeing the creature, the hippogryph, which was watching me from where it stood next to the Draenei. "I'm not flying. I have no idea how to fly. How am I supposed to fly?"

She sighed, pulling me to her. "Come _here._ " I yelped when she pulled again, hard enough that I collided with her. Because of her height I ended up with a faceful of boobs, which I wasn't too glad about. "Look, you sit in front and I'll sit behind. How does that sound?" Jesus, she didn't even seem to care! What, did she launch people into her breasts all the time or something?

I mumbled a response, extricating myself from her bosom with a red face. She frowned, not seeming to understand what I'd just said. "That s-sounds good." I said again, giving her a thumbs-up.

'She's so fecking tall!' I thought to myself as I gingerly made my way to the hippogryph. 'Eight feet is far too high to be natural.'

Without any warning whatsoever she placed her hands around my waist and plonked me into the saddle of the hippogryph.

"Yiiiih!" I squealed, grappling for the pommel and clamping my knees tight. The hippogryph let out a high-pitched 'squaw' of annoyance and shifted, ruffling its feathers and flapping its wings.

"Settle down." Davina told me, swinging herself up behind me with practiced ease. "Just hold onto the saddle, grip with your knees and you'll be fine." She reached down and grabbed a hold of the heavy reins, her arms creating a cage around me. "Ready?"

"No," I whimpered, shivering. "You might as well go already."

She laughed behind me, nudging the animal into a walk, then a run, then we started jumping. First jump, I gritted my teeth. Second jump, I squeezed my eyes shut. We were suddenly weightless. I cried out as I felt us ascending, feeling gravity try to pull me back down to terra firma. My stomach pressed against my spine along with the rest of my innards and I felt like the sky itself was being placed on my shoulders.

"Oh Jesus. Oh Lord. Oh God." I whispered over and over as we continued to ascend, "Oh I don't like this. I really don't like this. I fecking _hate_ this!"

I felt the animal lunge upwards as it rose. My mouth pressed together in a thin line and my hands gripped onto the saddle until they hurt. It was so rocky and jerky that if it hadn't been for Davina's arms around my middle, I'd have careened off the animal's back and into God – knows what below.

"Aoibheann," Davina said in my ear after a few minutes, "look, it's alright now."

Tentatively, I trusted her and opened my eyes a smidgen. They opened fully, widening to a breaking point when I saw the view. My breath left me entirely as soon as I beheld the wonders before me.

"Oh my God." I breathed, feeling very insignificant and small, and also very humbled. "It's, it's…"

"Beautiful?" Davina prompted. I could hear the smile in her voice.

"Yeah," I continued, shutting my mouth as we continued to fly to the object which had stolen my speech and muddled my thoughts.

It was a city of spires and domes, a jewel perched on a rock which floated in the still air. I had a feeling that there was a crater somewhere in this world left by the place when it rose up from the ground, if the huge coagulation of rock tapering underneath it was anything to go by.

As we neared, not only was the city of Dalaran itself suspended on an island, but there were smaller islands surrounding it. A good few of them even had healthy looking foliage flourishing too. The city itself was surrounded by high, white walls. The rooves of the domes, reminding me of St. Peter's Basilica from that school trip to Rome, were tiled in red, blue and violet. In the very centre sat a large building whose centre spire gave off a luminescent rose aura.

"What's that?" I asked, pointing to said building.

I felt Davina crane her neck and follow to where my finger was pointing. "Ah," she said. "That's the chamber of the Guardian."

"What's it for?" I questioned, tilting my head at the oddity of it all. "It looks pretty important what with all the glowing and stuff." My gaze swept across the various rooftops and other domiciles scattered about. "Jeez, everything looks important here," I muttered.

The priest chortled behind me. "Yes, it does doesn't it?" She mused. "Look, I'll show you around once we land and maybe we can find some of those books, hmm?"

"Alright then so." I agreed, nodding. "That sounds grand."

Shortly after I had my fill of the aerial view of the place, we landed. Davina dismounted and I followed her, stumbling a little as my legs adjusted to working on a solid surface again. A man whose features were very similar to that of Alysria took the reins of the hippogryph and nodded to Davina. She smiled at him and walked towards the entrance of a domed building.

I studied our location for a few seconds, trying to orientate myself. A large, circular platform of pinkish stone laid at my feet. Directly in front of me lay a broken pillar which rested against a high wall. Over the wall I could see ruby coloured domes and spires.

To my right was a stabled area, to where the blonde, elven man with blue eyes was taking the hippogryph. Just outside the centre platform was a grassy area.

To my immediate left I could see a shrine of sorts, consisting of a platform of solid rock surrounded by a ring of dark stone. A wavering image of a tempest hovered just above the platform, shimmering like a mirage. Standing either side of said platform were two guards, supposedly.

One was a hulk; green-skinned and sporting more muscle than a steroid-junkie of a bodybuilder. A long, heavy, braided beard, chocolate brown in colour, rested against his chest. Lord, he carried so much muscle that the weight of it made him stoop a little. He stood just over seven feet tall and was dressed in an array of chainmail adorned with bone, feathers and furs. An elaborate kilt sat on his hips and a lupine mask covered his face.

I squinted. Were those tusks peeking out from under the wolf's head or was it just the wolf? I shook my head, not knowing.

The second figure was female, and she was garbed almost identically to the barbaric hulk standing next to her. What caught my attention the most though, was her hair. It was bright red. Not the honey, blonde-red mix or the washed-out looking carrot-top red, but a proper, striking vermillion.

It nearly screamed for attention, not just for the colour but the style as well. A huge, spiky Mohawk bisected her skull, merging somewhere at the back of her head to form a pseudo-mullet. Long braids adorned with beads and bone trailed over her shoulders and down her back. She stood straight and proud, her skin a bright teal, contrasting with her hair.

I turned back to where the stables were. Just beyond that, a section of the wall which encircled the entire area had crumbled, leaving a gaping hole and an entry down to the lower level of the island. I could see others taking off and landing there on various mounts; some hippogryphs, others of which I had no clue.

A moment of panic seized me when I saw some people were running to the edge and launching themselves off into empty air. I moved closer and noticed that as soon as they leaped off, bat-like membranous wings erupted from their backs and they glided safely down to one of the floating islands below.

'What the Hell are they?' I wondered, unconsciously making my way to the wall.

As I neared I peered over the edge of the Island. Below me was another tier of grass surrounded by wall. Beyond that and floating a little way off was an island. If I squinted I could just make out people moving around. A flash of green caught my eye and I leaned forwards, trying to see a bit more.

Someone bumped into me then, nearly knocking me off the edge and sending me tumbling out into the open air.

"Hey!" I exclaimed, glaring at the offender. "Watch where you're…."

My indignant reply died on my lips as I stared at who'd nearly knocked me off of Dalaran.

A tall, fierce elven lady gazed coolly down at me. She was built like an Olympian, or a Navy S.E.A.L. – someone who did a lot of fighting, anyway. I openly stared at her impressive musculature. By the way she held herself, I knew she wasn't one to be messed with.

Her eyes, made of green fire, burned at me from their empty sockets. She had dark skin, seemingly purple but tinged with an unhealthy shade of grey. A scar trailed from the corner of her mouth down the side of her jaw, making her look all the more intimidating. Dark purple hair, tied up into a heavy braid, was slung over her shoulder and trailed down to her hips. Two small horns jutted out from the fluffy mass at her temples and curled around her ears, one of which had a chip bitten out of it.

She wore a dark, leather, floor length kilt with a belt slung around her hips. Around her chest was an amalgamation of leather strips which appeared to provide cover, but I couldn't see how they would provide armour either what with her midriff being exposed and all. I did, however, show off her tattoos beautifully. The bright red swirls carved into her skin pulsed almost to a heartbeat.

Around her wrists were armoured leather bindings and I supposed her feet were padded as well. A pair of twin glaives were sheathed to her back. They appeared slimmer than the ones I'd seen before, more deadly almost. I eyed their jagged edges warily, almost expecting them to jump out and impale me.

All over her armour and on her weapons were those strange runes written in the glowing, acid green. Was she the same person as the Heavy Metal Angel? Did they know each other? Did they work together? Did she have something to do with him being at that cave that night?

I quit staring and opened my mouth to ask her but she cut me off.

"Out of my way, human," her voice was as raspy as a crow's and her lip curled at the sight of me, "Some of us have work to do."

I flushed and stepped aside, jarring when I heard someone shouting my name. My head whipped around to see Davina at the other end of the Landing. When I turned to look back at Full Metal Elf lady, she was gone. Where did she go?

"Aoibheann!" I flinched at Davina's tone, hurrying to where she was standing. She folded her arms over her chest and tapped a hoof in impatience. "Come on, exploration can come later. We have work to do." She chided, grasping me by the arm and practically dragging me through the archway and down a set of steps. We entered a domed chamber, the entrance of which was guarded by pillars composed of that same pale stone which made up the vast majority of the city.

I could see so many people milling about, passing us by with barely a glance. So many people, so many races, so much variety.

"Wow," I said, pausing.

Davina pulled me along and I reluctantly followed, wanting nothing more than to stroll along the cobbled streets in my own time. We meandered along, dodging people by the dozen until we reached a large building. This one had a blue roof and was guarded by – I froze.

"Uhhh, Davina," I started, causing her to stop and turn to me, "Wh-what, who are they?" I stammered, pointing to the furry wolf-people.

She followed my gaze, confusion turning to realisation when she understood my predicament. "They're Worgen guards. They're just watching the Alliance inn. It's nothing to worry about." I started to protest but she shushed me with a look. "If I let you wander in your own time I'd get nothing done. Come on now, we need to get rooms."

I swallowed and mutely followed, shivering slightly when I passed by the guards. I didn't like their eyes, I noticed. They glowed either bright blue or amber and held an unnerving intelligence. One of them glanced at me, giving me a nod and going back to people-watching.

'Nope, definitely don't like the eyes,' I thought, 'Not at all.'

The interior of the inn was comprised of pale, heavy stone. A high, domed ceiling stretched above our heads, etched with delicate golden leaf motifs. The floor was laid out in large, rosy and pale flagstones. The decorated sconces in the walls housed candles which gave the room a homely, warm glow. Small tables were placed here and there, laid out with fanciful crockery. Directly in front of us was a bar.

The barkeep was a human man, dressed in a simple, yet pleasant looking cloth shirt and breeches. Either side of the bar were two stone staircases which led to what I assumed were the upper floors and rooms. Two archways gaped behind the bar, under the stairs. Laughing and shouts could be heard from the one on the left and the clinking of pots and pans could be heard from the right. I made a note to have a little mosey around once we got things sorted here.

Davina turned to the slight, elven lady standing just inside the door.

"Two rooms please," she told her, handing over coinage.

"May I have your names?" The blue eyed elf asked in a soft voice, "for the ledger."

"Of course." Davina nodded. "I'm Davina," she pointed to me, "that's Aoibheann." The lady tilted her head and smiled at me. I waved awkwardly back at her.

She produced a small book from somewhere in her exquisite dress, thumbing through it before taking out a quill and a small bottle of ink. "Davina and Aoibheann," she murmured, scribbling something down. A frown graced her brow, her long eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

I blinked when she stared at me, the frown deepening. "Aoibheann?" She asked.

"Yes?" I responded warily, giving Davina a 'what's going on?' look. She shrugged, shaking her head.

"Is there a problem with me staying here?" My stomach tightened in anxiety.

The woman's glowing eyes widened and she shook her head.

"Not at all." She told me, gesturing to the book. "It's just that your name is already here on record."

I balked.

"Yer wha?" I said, absolutely and completely lost. "Who in the feck put that there?"

"I would also like to know that as well." Davina chipped in, tapping her hoof on the cold stone floor, her tail swishing behind her in agitation.

The elf looked down at the page again.

"Let me see," her finger slid down, reading off names silently until her face brightened and she looked my way again. "A Kaldorei came by a few minutes ago and paid for two rooms for him and you."

"What was his name?" I had an idea who it was already. Anxiety turned slowly into anger. Davina looked worriedly at me. Had Mordaan told her of what happened last night?

"Faeldryn." She stated, taking a few coins from Davina's outstretched palm and closing her ledger.

I sighed, grimacing. Yup, I knew it. Davina was given two sets of keys with tags and odd symbols on them. She handed one set to me after clarifying with the innkeeper and I followed her up the stairs. She led me to a door down along a carpet-covered hallway. I unlocked it and stepped inside, walking over to the large bed by the window and placing my bag on top of the footlocker, rolling my shoulders in contentment at the sudden relief from the weight.

"I'll let you get settled down," Davina said to me, closing the door. "Meet me downstairs when you're ready and I'll show you around." I nodded and she shut the door, the clip-clop of her hooves muffled by the dark wood.

I took the time to study my room as I packed my things away, which didn't take long considering I had little to nothing. The bed was dressed with soft wine-coloured blankets and pillows. At its end was a footlocker, into which I dumped all my belongings. Covering the flagstones was a thick rug. A fireplace sat snugly in the wall to the right of me, two elegant wing-backed chairs faced each other either side of the hearth.

To my left was a stained-glass window, currently open. A pretty window box full of colourful flowers sat on the sill outside of the room. I wandered over to it, inhaling the sweet smell and taking my fill of the city. The paths were a hive of activity, with people of every sort going about their businesses. What struck me the most was the racial variety.

I could pick out a few humans, although some of them looked very … sickly; draenei, night elves, and blood elves. There were also some worgen, those wolf-people running about, the green-skinned hulks, tall rainbow-coloured creatures with enormous ears, tusks and awesome hair. I also saw what I thought were dwarves and even smaller folk, some who looked like human toddlers and others who looked like green skinned imps. I did a double take when I caught sight of Minotaurs and panda people.

'Oh my Lord, is that Po?' I thought, watching a rather rotund panda man wobble his way down with a keg under his arm, chatting idly with a Minotaur lady.

I rubbed my eyes and turned away from the window, jumping at a sudden knock at the door. I walked over and opened it, slightly, peering through the crack to whoever was on the other side. It was the innkeeper. I opened the door fully and waved shyly.

"Hello." I said, stepping out of the doorway so she could enter the room.

"Greetings," she replied, her blue eyes glowing warmly. "I just came to see if you would prefer to have your supper taken to your room or if you'd rather eat downstairs."

"Oh." I blinked, surprised. "I think I'll have it up here," I picked at my sleeve, "thanks for asking, anyway."

She bowed, "you're welcome," and turned, leaving.

I shut the door and stood for a couple of seconds before I remembered that I had to meet Davina.

'Feck,' I thought, quickly ducking out the door and galumphing downstairs. 'Where is she? Where is she? Where?' I scanned the open room, searching for the tell-tale tall lady. 'Ah, there!' She was talking to a short, stout man with a luxuriantly long and thick beard the colour of honey. He was dressed in an assortment of leather and plate armour with a battered helm shoved onto his head. A rough woollen cloak fell from his shoulders, stopping just shy of the ground.

I waved at her and she beckoned for me to come over, waving goodbye to the man. He nodded to her and marched off, slinging a massive axe onto a holster attached to his back. Davina slipped something into a satchel which hung from her shoulder and we set off.

I had a good look around with her. She showed me where the bank was, the barber's, I bought some fruit from Applebough, a talking tree. That was unexpected. I got to see the Violet Citadel, or at least, the outside of it. We went to a leatherworker's shop where I was shown some new techniques by a fierce looking night elf named Namha Moonwater. She also examined some of my earlier handiwork and kindly showed me where I could improve and how to stitch without turning my fingers into Swiss cheese.

"See, if you work the needle like _this_ ," she demonstrated, wiggling and twisting the implement through the tough leather, "your stitching will improve immensely and," she finished, handing me the now-fixed jerkin, "it will be bound all the stronger."

I held up the garment in wonderment. Such a perfect stitch. "Thank you," I breathed.

She smiled, revealing a set of sharp, sparkly teeth. "Not at all," pointing to my garment, "if you feel that your current tutor isn't fitting your aspirations, feel free to ask for my guidance."

I blinked, pondering.

"I think," I began, fiddling with the leather, "I'll stick with the person I'm learning from for a little longer, just to see how it pans out."

Namha nodded in understanding. I waved and left the Leatherworker's, finding myself at a skinning shop just next to it.

'Huh,' I mused, entering, 'what are the odds of that?' I was also shown how to skin more efficiently by a min – no, a Tauren by the name of Kondal Huntsworth. He told me if I wanted any help, I could come to him.

"Oh, thanks," I said, "but I'm already learning from someone else."

He nodded before responding in a humming voice, "The offer still stands if you wish to learn from me."

I smiled and nodded, leaving the shop and joining Davin

a once more. She was grinning from ear to ear, gushing about how much her gems had sold for at the Auction House. I humoured her and we wandered about some more. She pointed out the various other shops, from one where I learned First Aid, very useful and we eventually came to rest ourselves in a communal inn known as the Legerdemain Lounge.

The smell of coffee, chocolate, alcohol and people permeated my nostrils as we stepped inside. I started slightly when Davina grabbed my hand and pressed a small pouch into it, curling my fingers over the bag.

"Here," she fumbled with her satchel, craning her neck in some attempt to find someone. "Go and get yourself a drink. I need to meet someone."

I opened my mouth to respond but she quickly vanished, her salt-white head of hair disappearing in the dimness of the building. I stayed by the entrance, clutching the pouch before plucking up the courage and making my way over to the bar.

I awkwardly sat up on the stool, placing my leather in my lap. An elven man with a foxtail of a red ponytail and emerald green eyes wandered over to me, giving me a toothy smile. My foot twitched on one of the legs of the stool. He leaned an elbow on the counter, the ruffles of his ivory shirt slopping onto the wood.

"What can I get for you, cutie?" He winked, a sharp canine peeking out from his lip.

'My God,' I thought, staring. 'Are all these elves vampires or something? What's with the pointy teeth? Do they never go and see a dentist?'

I blinked and coughed, tying to cover up my staring and hoping he didn't notice it. I saw him raise a long, fiery eyebrow. Woops, he noticed alright.

"Uhhh," I started, my cheeks burning, trying to ignore his grin, "I'd like a cup of coffee please."

"That'll be six silver, sweetcheeks," he held out his hand for the coin.

I narrowed my eyes and scrunched up my nose at the 'sweetcheeks', rummaging around and counting six silver pieces. The coins were large and surprisingly heavy. When I held my hand out and dropped them into his palm, I was careful to not touch his tanned skin. He snickered at that.

"Your drink will be right up," he said, closing his palm and brushing his fingers against the underside of my wrist as he did.

I flinched and snapped my hand back, causing him to frown and shrug. I stared at the countertop, following the grain of the wood with a finger while I waited for my drink. Not too long had passed before a mug of delicious smelling caffeine was place in front of me.

"Thanks," I mumbled, glancing up at the elf, but he was already gone, sweet-talking another female customer. She had no problem whatsoever with that and openly flirted right back at him.

I snorted and took a sip of the steaming, dark liquid, hissing when I burned my tongue. I fanned my mouth, gasping. A short laugh came from my right, making me jump. No-one had been there when I sat down. I turned my head to look at them. It was at that moment that time stopped.

"Careful," he said, smirking and nodding to my cup. His voice low and gravelly, but still with a nice hum to it, "it's hot."

I openly stared, not even attempting to disguise it. "You," I whispered, lifting a shaking finger and pointing at him.

He frowned, his dark forehead creasing. "What about me?" He rasped, sipping his own drink with a large, clawed hand. He tilted his head to the side. "Do I know you?"

I nodded, then shook my head. I never thought I'd see this person again.

'What are the chances?' I wondered, staring into the jade glow that were his eyes. 'In a coffee shop of all fecking places.'

"You saved my life," I said, my voice low, my gaze fixed on his fiery green glare. "I was attacked by a demon, in a cave. Don't you remember?"

Recognition crossed his features, followed by mild annoyance.

"Ah yes," he took another sip, licking his dark lips. They weren't chapped, I realised, but rather soft-looking. "The clumsy oaf of a human who nearly cost me my mission." I felt shame wash over me, colouring my cheeks and burning my ears. "How could I forget that incident," he gently touched the right side of my jaw, stroking the skin with his calloused thumb, "especially after that punch you gave me?"

My mouth dropped open in indignation.

"Th-that was an accident!" I sputtered, tapping his hand away. "I didn't know who you were or what you were doing to me, or even what was going on."

He grinned and leaned against the counter, placing his elbow on the wood. "Oh?" He crooned, smiling lazily, "well, maybe you can tell me what you were doing there in the first place then."

I frowned, debating whether or not to answer. Could I trust him? I mean, he did save my life and all, but right after…

I gasped, glaring at him.

"You left me by the roadside!" I exclaimed, glaring, my hands clenching into fists. "You killed the demon, but you didn't even go for help after I collapsed."

He chuckled deeply, shaking his head.

"Of course I didn't leave you there to die," he grinned, showing those deadly teeth, "if that druid didn't come by and pick you up, that's his misdeed not mine."

"Druid," I mouthed, vague flashes of being picked up and healed by emerald light flitted through my mind, "wait, you mean Faeldryn?"

He started a bit when I said the name, the mirth leaving his features, making him look more and more solemn and quite scary.

"Yes," he turned back to face the bar, hunching over his drink, "Faeldryn."

I leaned back at the acid in his tone. 'Woah, what did that lad do to this chap?' I thought, 'what did they do to each _other_?'

We sat in silence, he sipping from his mug, me staring down at mine, sneaking glances at him every few seconds to make sure he was still there. After about a minute or so he lifted his arms and stretched, grunting. I flushed furiously at the action, noting the fact that he was still running around topless.

His close proximity, the obvious attractiveness of him, in a certain way, and the confident way he held himself made me feel all tingly. He caught me staring and a slow smile spread across his face. I ducked my head, wishing I'd worn my hair loose so it could hide the obvious burning in my cheeks. I occupied myself with my cup of coffee, which seemed miles more interesting now. The bitter gulp helped me get a hold of myself.

When I sneaked a peek back over to him I froze. He was leaning close to me, his chin on his palm. I sat like a rabbit caught in headlights. His face was so close that all I could see was the blindfold. After a moment he hummed and moved away, the corner of his mouth crooking up slightly. I thought of something then, something which I should have said to him before collapsing in a bloody mess.

I cleared my throat, catching his attention.

"So," I mumbled, studying the coffee clamped between my two palms. My tongue felt too big for my mouth. I pursed my lips. What was wrong with me?

"So..?" he prompted, leaning on the counter once again, watching me, a smirk playing about his lips as he languished there.

"I wanted to thank - thank you," I muttered in a rush, gripping the mug even more tightly. Why was it so hard to talk now? "For, you know." I lifted a shoulder, "the whole 'saving my life' thing."

He finished his cup and ordered a refill. I sat, feet twitching and fingers drumming against the mug in agitation. I filled the gap in the conversation by taking another big gulp of strong, hot liquid, feeling the beginnings of a caffeine buzz work its magic.

"Your welcome," was the response. I sighed in relief. "However," Uh-oh. "You're indebted to me."

I blanched, scrunching my face up in disarray. "I'm what?" I squeaked, my face going pale.

"A life for a life," he took a gentle hold of my chin and tilted my face up to his, "that's the way it works around here, dumpling."

"Wh-what do I have to do to repay the debt?" Not two weeks am I here and already I'm in debt.

"That's for me to decide." He released me and turned back to his drink. "Rest assured, I'll let you know when I do," he gave me a small once-over. "What's your name by the way, I never caught it from all that gibberish you were screaming at me."

I gulped at the simple question. "It's Aoibheann, Aoibheann Kelly."

He held out his hand to me, which I cautiously took. "I'm Melandryn, Melandryn Felstalker."

"P-pleased to meet you," I stuttered, the normality of it all leaving me reeling. Here we were, in a coffee shop, on a floating rock and we were exchanging greetings like old friends. "Can I ask you something?"

He nodded, releasing my hand.

"What are you?" I let my hand drop to my lap, fidgeting with my leather jerkin as I gauged his reaction.

Instead of getting offended by the question, he bore an expression of resignation.

"I'm a Demon Hunter." He said with the tone of one who repeated that phrase numerous times. "And before you ask, I was a Kaldorei before the change. No, I didn't lose my sanity, yes I still have all my emotions and no, and I don't go on a rampaging killing spree whenever my adrenaline levels or blood preassure get too high." I opened my mouth again but he cut across me, "yes, my horns are real."

I sat, dumbfounded. I felt a sudden need to giggle, so I did. The demon hunter, Melandryn, raised his eyebrows as he stared at my shenanigans. I gulped down the last of my coffee, smothering the hysteria in the bitter brew.

"Sorry," I gasped, catching a few drops on the corner of my mouth with my thumb. "It's just been a crazy two weeks."

He smiled, leaning forwards and propping his chin on his palm again. "Oh really?" He murmured, "Do tell."

As soon as I opened my mouth to relate the story, I was startled off my stool by an angry shout.

"Aoibheann!" I looked behind me from my place on the floor, seeing Faeldryn standing in the doorway. He stood with his hands on his hips and his eyes glaring down at mine like amber fire.

"Here," Melandryn's gravelly timbre tickled my ear as he grasped me by the elbow and helped me to my feet.

I turned to thank him, only to notice him staring at the druid in the door. It was then that I realised that Faeldryn hadn't been glaring at me, but at _Melandryn_. The demon hunter matched the druid with equal, if not more ferocity, his own face twisted in a vicious, hungry scowl, teeth bared.

I backed away from the two of them, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. They stood in battle stances, Faeldryn's hands hovering at his belt where I could see handles poking out, no, not handles, _hilts_. Melandryn's hands hovered around those huge blades on his back. The two of them were as taunt as bowstrings.

I stood helpless, not knowing what to do. Luckily, I was saved by Davina. Oh, God bless that woman!

"Evie!" She exclaimed, popping up behind me, "there you are! Listen, there's someone I'd like you to meet!"

"Davina!" I grabbed her by the shoulders, panicking, "Faeldryn and a demon hunter are eyeing each other up. It looks as if they're going to fight. I don't know what to do." At the mention of the words 'demon hunter,' her face darkened. "Please help. The hunter's the one that saved my life that night."

Her mouth tightened. "I'll see what I can do," she said tartly, brushing my hands off her shoulders and striding towards the two elves.

I heard her speaking with them for a few minutes but the words were lost to me. After a while the two of them relaxed and I wandered over when I felt it was safe to do so. I stuttered to a stop when I caught the tail end of the dialogue between Faeldryn and Melandryn.

"…I thought I told you to never come near me again!" Faeldryn hissed at Melandryn from the other side of Davina.

"Well," Melandryn drawled, circling the rim of his mug with a finger. He'd sat back down again the bar and continued to drink his coffee, "is that any way to greet your little brother, hmm?" He grinned at Faeldryn's obvious anger. "If it weren't for me you wouldn't have that little plaything now, would you?"

"Shut your mouth, hybrid!" Faeldryn snarled, banging his fist on the countertop.

"Plaything?" I whispered, feeling as thought I'd been punched in the gut. "Wait, they're brothers?" I whipped my head between the two of them, small similarities cropping up. The way they held themselves, the set of their mouths, even the way they'd behaved was now starting to fit into place. "What the hell is going on?" I asked myself, feeling even more lost than before.

The barkeep came up, his face stern when he noticed the obvious friction between the two men. "If you're going to fight, take it outside," he warned, "I don't want you wrecking my building."

The two elves looked at him, then back to each other. Faeldryn glanced over at me, making me freeze. He grabbed my hand and led me out. I looked back in shock, catching Melandryn's eye on the way out, feeling baited by his idle wave.

'Cocky bastard,' I thought, stumbling as the large blue man practically towed me along with him. 'This one isn't much better either.'

"Faeldryn, slow down." I demanded, hopping and skipping in an attempt to keep up with him. He gripped me even more tightly, making me wince. I'd never seen him this angry before. "Hey, Faeldryn!" Still no response. "Oi, Flop-ears!" I smacked him in the shoulder.

He growled and pulled me into the inn from this morning, pulling me up the stairs and into a room. Before I could do anything more I was flung against the wall, the angry elf locking me in place. I tried to move my arms, currently held over my head, but it was useless. His hands were like manacles around my wrists.

Helplessness welled in my chest, followed by panic, making my breath quicken and my pulse race. He loomed over me, tension crackling through him like lightning, effecting me as well. I wanted to hide and run away at the same time.

"What are you doing?" I whispered, scared. He didn't answer, only stared at me with those glowing, golden eyes.

I felt him move my wrists together, holding them in one hand. The other slid down to tangle in my hair. I gulped as my face was tilted up, my body trembling in fear and something else. Excitement? Oh please God no. His features softened slightly, the mask of anger fading, but the intensity grew even more. He brought his face down, his warm breath washing over me in shaking gasps.

I strained my head back, trying to get away. Of course I couldn't but I did it anyway. He was so close I could feel the heat radiating off him. I squeezed my eyes shut, tears stinging out from under my lids. In a shuddering gasp, Faeldryn pressed his mouth against mine, making me whimper and leading to all thoughts in my head to flee.

He kissed me softly at first, which was nice, but he quickly grew harsher, hungrier. I stood there, my knees becoming weak and my head feeling full of cotton. My knees gave out and I slipped. A low growl rumbled from his chest and he pressed his body against mine, locking me against the wall with his hips. I trembled, hating the way he was making me feel, hating my weakness and also completely confused as to what brought this all on.

His tongue ran along my bottom lip, making me gasp in surprise. He opened his mouth and deepened the kiss, tasting me, letting out a lusty moan which sent shivers up and down every inch of my body. The hand in my hair tightened its grip, making me grunt. Another growl erupted from Faeldryn, leaving me biting back a whimper in response.

'Why am I feeling this way?' I thought, shaking my head, desperate to get away and get my head around all that was going on.

He broke off the kiss, giving me much needed airspace. I gulped in air, shivering against him. I wanted to yell, to scream, something, but I was stopped short when he made a trail of ravenous kisses along my jaw and down the column of my neck. My skin was so sensitive, even the softest brush of his mouth had sparks of pleasure zipping through me like lightning. Once more he latched onto the soft spot just shy of my collarbone, nibbling and sucking on the delicate skin.

'If it keeps on like this,' I said to myself, biting back a moan when he moved lower down, 'I don't know how far it'll go.' He moved back up to nibble on my ear. 'Lord give me strength.' I whimpered, shuddering when he teased the sensitive shell of my ear.

"Faeldryn," I whispered. "Faeldryn, please –Mpffff –"

He silenced me with his mouth, his free hand disentangling from my hair and moving down my neck, brushing my collarbones, steadily moving lower. I shook my head, breaking off the kiss.

"Faeldryn stop!" I cried, bucking against his grip on my wrists. "Please!"

He stayed his hand and stared down at me, those amber eyes wanton, making my insides squirm. I took in a breath to tell him to release me but he darted down and buried his face in my neck again, inhaling.

"Faeldryn?" I asked, quivering. The feel of his feathery breath was ticklish. "Faeldryn, let me go."

"Why?" He whispered into my skin, so soft that I almost didn't hear it.

"What?" I asked, confused.

He lifted his mouth, licking a trail up my jaw to my ear. "Why were you there with him?" His mouth brushed against my ear as he spoke, his hot breath making me shudder. "Why didn't you come to find me?"

"Are you for real?" the blood left my face which went pale with hot, unadulterated rage. He moved away from my ear to look into my eyes. I wanted to slap him, hard. "Are you seriously going to ask me that after how you've treated me for the past few weeks? You said so yourself last night that you didn't care." I kicked him in the toes. "If you have a beef with Melandryn, have a beef with him but don't fucking bring me into it!"

He blinked. "Stay away from Melandryn," he said, "he's dangerous." That was a piss of an excuse if I ever heard one.

"Shut the fuck up!" I snarled my eyes stinging. I shook my head in disbelief. "Why in the flying blue feck are you getting jealous around Melandryn, yet you didn't get jealous whenever I was with Fenrich or Mordaan?" He frowned but he didn't answer. "I'm telling you Faeldryn, I can't be having with this kind of behaviour. Its fecking creepy and I don't like it." I wiggled my wrists, "now could you let me go please? And for God's sake, leave me alone unless it's important."

He mutely released my wrists, staring blankly at my face. A shudder passed through him when I pushed him off me and held my hands close to my chest. He stood still, rubbing his forehead, a pained expression crossing over his face. He looked confused, almost. While he was distracted, I slowly backed away from him, making for the door. To my utter bafflement and surprise, he reached for me, pleading me with his eyes.

'Oh no you don't!' I shied away from his hand, my eyes widening when he moved towards me, arms open.

"Aoibheann," he whispered, the corners of his brows drawn together in sadness and confusion, "please, I didn't mean to –"

"No." I said, shaking my head and darting away.

I fled to my room, shutting and locking the door. As soon as that was done I ran to the window and latched it shut. When all of that was completed I huddled on my bed, hugging my arms around myself, wondering where I'd gone wrong to deserve this.

"Oh please God," I prayed, my voice muffled by my knees, "Please God, I just want to go home."

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Author's Note: Please leave me a review and let me know what you think, where I went wrong (If I went wrong) and if I left any loose ends untied.


	4. Not Quite What I'd Planned

Author's Note: I don't, under any circumstances, own the game World of Warcraft, its works, nor any other such related works/games/books. I make no profit from this story.

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Chapter Four: Not Quite What I'd Planned.

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The last rays of the evening sun blazed through the window. I squinted blearily up at the light, slumped against the chest at the foot of my bed. Dried salty tear tracks cracked under my hand as I roughly rubbed my cheeks. I blinked, my eyes sticky and sore. How long had I been sitting here? A knock on the door caught my attention, snapping me out of my stupor.

"Come in." I called, my voice cracking woefully.

With a stiffness known only to those who've been sitting on their backsides for a long time, I stood. As I straightened myself and tried to clean myself up, the door swung open.

The innkeeper stepped in, hefting a large tray in her hands. She stumbled, only briefly, at my dishevelled appearance but had the good grace not to ask any questions. I watched as she placed the tray on a small table just in front of the hearth. With a smile and professional demeanour she turned to me.

"Would you like the fire lit for the evening?" she asked, clasping her hands before gesturing to the cold grate. "It gets quite cold up here at night."

"That would be nice," I replied, nodding. My stomach growled. I slapped my hands over it, flushing in embarrassment. "Excuse me."

She chuckled, walking leisurely to the door. "Not to worry. I'll have your fire lit and some wood sent up."

I nodded my thanks before watching her close the door, waiting until the soft clip-clap of her shoes disappeared down the hall before diving for the food. The steam filled my nose with such wonderful scents I could barely wait to eat it all. I sat in one of the chairs, balancing the tray in my lap and dug into the fare.

My God, it was delicious. Of all the stews I'd ever had in my life, I doubt I'd ever be able to compare them to the one I was currently wolfing down now. Big hearty chunks of meat, nice diced vegetables and a good, strong broth all mixed together beautifully. It was filling and it warmed me up right down to the tips of my fingers and toes with each and every mouthful.

The bread was even better. It was like the brown soda loaf that Nana would make, except it had more bits in it. Not bad bits, necessarily, but bits nonetheless. They were the crunchy, crusty bits that said 'I am bread.'

Unlike the soft, squishy, wan white loaves swaddled in packaging which sat dismally on endless shelves at your local Tesco or Lidl, this was the Good stuff. The handmade stuff, wrapped in Nostalgia. The butter tasted a bit odd though. There wasn't nearly enough salt in it for one and it was much too creamy. The bread made up for it I suppose. I really did like the bread…

A stout ceramic jug squatted next to the empty bowl. I picked up the equally squat flagon into which I poured the contents of the jug. Plain water, nothing that exciting, but the drink was welcome nonetheless. I frowned slightly as I brought it to my lips. It had a, what was it? There was a mineral smell to it. I took a cautious sip.

'Huh.' I gulped a bit more down. 'Mineral it is then.'

There was no niggling aftertaste of chlorine, or lime for that matter. It was very clear and fresh. Pure even. I liked it.

'I'll be staying away from that "Sea Breeze" stuff for a while, that's for sure.' I mumbled internally, recalling the unpleasantness of the headache from that morning.

When I finished up I piled the crockery into a neat stack and placed them with tray outside the door. With a sigh I turned back into the room and absentmindedly searched through my pack for something that wasn't there. I fiddled and fidgeted with the leathers, my needle, and whatever odds and ends were inside. I wanted to _do_ something, but _what_ I had no idea.

'I need to go for a walk,' my sensible voice told me. 'Get out in the fresh air, get my legs moving. That'll clear my head a bit.'

It was fully dark when I looked up at the window again, the room lit by those odd-looking magical lamps poking out from the walls. I probably should have stayed in for the night but I just wanted to occupy myself for a while before settling down and thinking about certain…complications.

'One thing's for certain though,' I told myself as I combed through my hair and let it hang loose, 'I need to stop being such a baby about it. I mean,' I fiddled with a wayward strand, biting my lip, 'it was only a kiss.'

Yeah, a kiss and a feel and a whole lot more. God help me, I need to kick him in the nuts the next time he tries something like that. What's his deal anyway? I certainly couldn't see the appeal. Alysria described me perfectly; pale, squishy, covered in speckles – exactly like a spotted dumpling. Unless he liked Chinese Pork Buns, I was completely stumped for answers.

"I'll wring it out of him the next time I see him, so help me, God."

I pulled on my boots and grabbed my pack, being careful about where I hid the money pouch, before venturing out into the now-nocturnal tavern. I was greeted by a wave of light, laughter and a healthy sense of rambunctious joviality. People were drinking, laughing, playing cards or sitting in the corner like naughty children. I left it all behind me as I stepped out into the street, shivering the minute the wind touched me.

"God, it's cold." I hissed, whishing I was clad in my big jacked instead of these skimpy leathers.

Still shivering, I walked the street, surprised at the amount of activity. It didn't feel like night. There was so much movement everywhere and all those lights more than made up for the lack of sun. If I hadn't been able to see patches of dark here and there from under the light pollution I'd have thought it was just an incredibly long evening. Another gust of wind left me chilled, annoyed and wanting for warmth, so I stepped into the nearest building without looking.

Just my luck that I'd bump into someone.

"Ouch!" I exclaimed as I fell back onto the cobbles. Jeepers. Whoever they were, they were built like a flipping brick wall.

My blood froze when I looked up to see who it was I'd bumped into.

"Well, well, well," The self-assurance was strong with this one. "What's this, the second time we've met in one day?"

Melandryn knelt down in front of me, grinning. I stared back, mute with shock and mortification. Two times, and both times I'd managed to fall rather ungainly onto my arse in front of him.

"Nice to see you too." I got out, awkwardly rising to my feet. "Sorry about that, y'know." I gestured clumsily, keeping my gaze fixes on my toes. "I'll just be going then."

To my surprise I felt a strong hand grip my arm as I turned. My eyes bugged out of my skull in an obvious question as he pulled me back around to face him.

"Not so fast." That smug grin morphed into a hard smile. The kind of smile that said 'business.' Hearing his voice again, I noticed it had an eerie quality to it. It was like there was more than one of him speaking at the one time, as well as the rasp.

"I have some questions I need to ask you, if you don't mind." His fingers tightened ever so slightly on my arm.

A nervous laugh escaped me.

"Uhhh," I looked him up and down, "what if I say no?"

He didn't answer. He didn't need to, really. I decided that chancing my arm with this guy wouldn't be the best option, especially when he seemed rather, well, volatile at this moment. I sucked in a breath and nodded in resignation. He grunted, the smile fading.

"I'm glad we understand each other." He tugged my arm, causing me to follow him, tripping a little as I went.

We walked through the busy hubbub, wandering away from the lights to a section of wall which had crumbled, leaving a nifty passage to the lower level of the island city, outside the high, pristine wall of course.

I got the shivers when I noticed the rather small but innocuous graveyard next to the wall. Surprisingly it had managed to stay intact under all the rubble. I would have reacquainted my bottom with the ground again as we scrambled over the detritus had it not been for the fact that the demon hunter literally hoisted me over to the other side as if I weighed nothing.

He set me down just outside the wall. I was caught off guard when he, as soon as he stepped down himself, scooped me up into his arms.

"Hey!" I elbowed him in the chest, "What the feck are you doing? Put me down!"

He raised an eyebrow. "The questions I have for you are rather…sensitive."

I blinked. A slew of thoughts from that statement left me reeling and, quite frankly, rather flustered.

"What, what's so sensitive?" I spluttered, pushing away from him and trying to wriggle out of his grasp. "What could you possibly have to ask that you don't want others listening in?"

He snickered at my reaction.

"Why so red?" He chided, leaning in and making my flushed complexion deepen further. "I don't know what you were thinking, but I can promise that it has nothing to do with _that._ "

My mouth opened and closed mutely in indignation. Before I could throw him an awesomely witty comeback, I was shocked back into silence when he took off towards the edge of the island. Instead I unleashed a wordless cry of terror.

" _What the feck are you doing_?!" My heart leaped into my throat the minute he jumped off the edge. _"Jesus, Mary and Joseph, are you trying to kill us?"_

I panicked, burying my face in his shoulder, screaming. I could feel us soaring through the air for those few fatal seconds, wishing for the tell-tale jarring thud which would let me know that we'd land on terra firma once again.

It didn't come.

Instead I heard Melandryn grunt. His arms around me tensed, as well as the rest of him. A millisecond after I felt a _pull,_ an upward pull. We stopped falling, or at least the speed decreased significantly. It actually felt as though we were gliding.

Curious yet still terrified I lifted my head out from where it was buried in the juncture between his neck and shoulder and peeked around. I caught eyes with him. Or rather, I looked at the acid-green glow emanating from behind his blindfold. My expression seemed to have amused him because he gave me a cheeky grin, flashing a pointed tooth.

"What?" He teased, "If I wanted to kill you, you would already be dead. Besides," the grin changed, making me shiver. "You're rather fun to have around."

"What do you –" I began to ask, my gaze straying from his to look over his shoulder. "Jesus Christ!"

Sprouting from his back, currently supporting the two of us as we sailed gracefully through the air, were a pair of massive bat-like wings. The skin was the same colour as the rest of him, only the membranes were a wee bit tattered here and there. They seemed to be connected near his scapulae, built like another set of arms, nearly.

We touched down onto ground before I could freak and I watched, speechless, as the appendages folded in on themselves, disappearing into his back. I then remembered the people I'd seen jumping off near the hippogryph landing, and my immediate thoughts of him being a full-blown devil were put aside. Instead, curiosity stuck its nose in.

Melandryn set me down on my feet and I immediately darted around him. My hands swept his long hair out of the way and roamed over the scarred skin of his bare back. He wasn't wearing those huge blades for once. There were no tattoos here, oddly enough, but that wasn't my concern at the moment. I was looking for where those wings had gone. His skin was smooth, where it wasn't scarred by little nicks and cuts, and it was also very hot. I could feel the muscles flex with each breath. He tensed up, whipping around and grabbing my hands by the wrists.

"What are you doing?" He asked, none too pleased.

My brain kicked back into gear then. Suddenly hyperaware of the fact that I'd been feeling up a rather good-looking elf without his consent, who was also bare-chested, I did the only thing I could do. I squeaked, my cheeks turning red, as well as my ears.

"You have wings." I got out, squirming in embarrassment. The way he was looking at me made me feel very uncomfortable. "You never said anything about having wings. I was trying to find out where they went." I made an effort to breathe normally, but ended up hiccupping instead. Lord, this one and his brother really made me go loopy.

His expression changed from annoyed to something more devilish as he watched me. I held my breath when he leaned in even more, so close his nose nearly touched my own.

"You know," he murmured, that odd echo in his voice almost as hypnotic as the fire in his eyes, "if you wanted me that badly, you could have just said so." I shuddered as he tilted his head, his smile widening. "It's dangerous to make sudden moves around me," He licked his lips, "you never know how I might react. Things might get a bit," another squeak escaped me when he pulled me quickly against him, one arm sliding around my waist, the other tangling in my hair, holding my face, "rough."

My knees wobbled, my heart was in hysterics and I couldn't look away from his eyes. I couldn't even blink.

'What's happening?' I asked myself as I felt his hand sneak to the hem of my jerkin, 'please tell me he's not going to do what I think he's going to do.'

I tried to speak but no words were coming out. He chuckled, the sound reverberating through the two of us. I felt very lightheaded.

"Too easy," he said so quietly it could have been to himself.

"Wha?" I blinked owlishly, slightly dazed and still caught in his stare.

"Nothing." He replied, releasing me and stepping back.

I stood there, swaying. Now that I was no longer caught in his gaze I could think clearly. It was almost as though I'd lost the ability to think the moment I'd made eye contact. Almost like…no. He didn't use hypnosis on me, did he? Was that a demon hunter thing? My brow furrowed firstly in confusion, then realisation and finally, anger.

"Oi!" I marched over to him, jabbing him square in the torso with a finger. "What the fuck did you just do to me?"

"Hmmm?" He leisurely folded his arms, that smug smirk tilting his mouth again. "What do you mean?"

"Don't give me that crap." I placed one hand on my hip and pointed at him with the other, wagging my finger like he was a naughty dog. "You did something to me. You, you, you..." He raised a long, feathery eyebrow, "you hypnotised me."

"Are you sure you weren't just overwhelmed by my charming looks?" He snickered.

"Good looks?" I exclaimed, fuming. "You horny bastard. You look like the devil and you're acting like it too." I flung my hands up in exasperation. How dare he? "Did you hypnotise me or use magic on me, or what?"

He unfolded one of his arms, gently brushing a finger under my chin, running it along my jaw. Before I could smack it away, he tilted my head so I was looking into his eyes again. Immediately my thoughts clouded, leaving me to focus on nothing except him.

"What hypnosis?" He crooned, eyeing me like how I would eye a cake. "You mean this?"

I didn't say anything. His laugh rolled over me as he dropped his hand and broke eye contact. Immediately I could think properly again.

"Yes, that!" I spat, my hands clenching and unclenching into fists. "Don't do it again, please." I pinched the bridge of my nose and took a few deep breaths to calm down. I scowled back up at him. "Weren't you going to ask me questions?"

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. I squinted suspiciously at him.

'Don't tell me he's dragged me out here for nothing,' I shivered again as a small breeze whipped by, playing with my hair, 'I could be nice and warm in that bed…'

"You said they were of a sensitive nature." I prompted, spitting out a mouthful of hair, "you didn't want anyone overhearing?"

"Oh yes." The serious face was put back on. "First of all, were are you from?"

"Another world." I moved back and perched on a stray rock, crossing my arms.

"How did you get here?" He moved to stand in front of me, forcing me to crane my neck to look up at him.

"No idea. Hey, don't be giving me that." I glared at his expression. He had both eyebrows raised and his stance, even, told me he didn't buy it. "I have no clue as to what happened. I'm here in Dalaran to try to find out how to get back."

"Hmmm." He still didn't look as if he believed me. "You know, it is suspicious when you appear out of a wall, in a highly dangerous area known for demonic activity, in the lair of a rather powerful Eredar." I gulped when he bent down, slamming his hands either side of me. He leaned in, forcing me back onto my elbows. "I almost thought you were a demon yourself before I checked you."

"Checked, checked me?" I stuttered, "How?" I trembled in the awkward position, feeling especially vulnerable with him hulking over me the way he was.

"Oh, we have our ways." My mouth hardened into a thin line. I didn't like the vagueness. "You're not a warlock, are you?"

I blinked. "What?"

He tilted his head, astonished. "You don't know what a warlock is?"

"The Hell if I know?" My head now bobbing and weaving from frustration. "In my world there are nothing but humans and all we do is hack each other to pieces. There's no magic of any kind. Coming here is like stepping a good hundred years into the past, actually."

"Just humans?" He frowned, seeming to not quite believe me. "That sounds ridiculous."

"Well, it's true." I tapped the back of my heel against the stone. "We don't all get along either, before you ask." I could see the question in his face. "We have all sorts of wars over land, religion, petty slights that have happened long in the past. It's rather pathetic if you think about it."

"So you had no idea that this world existed at all?" He placed his hands on his hips and eyed me. "No magical training, no dealings with supernatural beings, nothing like that?"

"Not even a sausage." I leaned back on my palms and met his gaze. He really did look intimidating in the dark with the illuminated tattoos and the horns. "Like I said; only humans. All the stuff about supernatural creatures; they're just fairy stories."

He pursed his lips and pondered for a while. A few questions of my own came to mind.

"What were you doing in that cave, anyway?" As soon as I asked, I saw him narrow his eyes behind the blindfold.

"That's not for you to know."

I shrugged. "What, still don't trust me, or do I need to get horny to hear that?"

He threw back his head and laughed. After perhaps two seconds I realised my mistake in my wording and clapped a hand over my mouth, my cheeks flaming with chagrin.

"I, I," I held my hand out, mortified. "I didn't mean it like that, damn it."

"You," he shook his head. "You really are something else." I folded my arms and pouted.

"I have another question." I said sulkily.

He gestured for me to go on.

"What's the deal between you and … your brother? Why does he hate you so much?"

He gave me a dark smile, dripping with poison. "I don't know you well enough to tell you that."

I immediately felt very, very afraid.

"Well," I gulped, feeling very exposed and vulnerable. "I'll leave it at that then, so." He moved closer, towering over me yet again.

"How old are you?" He asked, folding his arms again and tilting his head.

"Wha?" I furrowed my brow in confusion. That menacing aura had receded, leaving me very jumpy.

"How," he leaned down, "old," his face hovered just in front of mine, "are you?"

"Eighteen." I whispered, jarred by his sudden closeness.

He looked me up and down. I didn't know whether it was my imagination or not, but his eyes seemed to glow brighter. I suddenly felt the weight of his stare, almost like he was pressing himself against me, no, not against; through me. His look seared through me like a laser. My pulse picked up and breathing seemed to become more difficult.

"How, how old are you then?" I stammered, wanting to distract him enough to break his look which was making me feel so odd.

"Hmmm?" His expression softened into what I was recognising as his teasing face. "Why, afraid I'm too old for you?"

"No." I muttered. "Could you move back a bit too? You're crowding me."

"I'm not sure I want to." He leaned in again, meaning I had to move back even more if I didn't want to mush my face into his. "You're rather endearing when you're flustered."

"Well _I_ want you to." I protested, now flat on my back on the rock. My hands pushed against his torso. He wouldn't budge.

"Hmmm." Was all he said.

He didn't move, just sort of hovered over me. The mischief faded, ringing some distant alarm bells somewhere in the back of my mind.

'Don't look in his eyes.' That small voice warned.

Too late. I looked, and was instantly lost. The glow seemed to intensify, becoming more alluring than painful to look at. I felt the slew of protest rising in my mind began to hush and fall back.

'He's actually quite beautiful,' I thought fuzzily as he bore down on me, his body barely pressing against my own, clasping my hands and pinning them above my head to the stone.

"I have another question."

"Yeah?" I mumbled, completely out of it by now.

"What's your relationship with my brother?" His nose bumped into mine, his breath ghosting over my lips.

"Your brother?" Who was that again? I couldn't remember.

"Faeldryn."

The name hit me like a bucket of ice-cold water. My head immediately cleared. I took one look at the position I was in and did what I should have done those first two times with that damned elf. My knee shot up.

"Get off me you horny gobshite!" I exclaimed, waiting for the connection.

He leaped out of the way of my leg, flipping over me and landing on the opposite side of the rock. I scrambled to my feet, feeling cold again. My arms hugged my chest and I shivered in the insufficient leather.

"Well," he wandered back to me. "That was unexpected."

"What was?" I scampered away, feeling like a mouse. "What are you on about?"

"Your reaction." He moved close again and I skittered back once more.

"What about my reaction?" I was beginning to get scared now.

He didn't say anything, just kept up that lazy stroll. I continued moving back, he kept moving forwards. The bastard was stalking me.

'God give me strength, am I really going to play this game all night?'

My feet stopped.

The gap between us closed.

I glared up at him.

"What's my relationship with Faeldryn got to do with you?" I growled, placing my hands on my hips.

"What _is_ your relationship?" He stopped close enough that his toes touched the tips of my boots.

"I haven't the faintest idea." I swallowed nervously. "He keeps coming at me and I don't know why."

I don't know if that was the answer he was looking for but he seemed satisfied enough.

"Why do you care so much anyway?" I tilted my head to the side and raised a quizzical eyebrow. "I'd hardly think that the likes of you would want to have anything to do with me."

"I have my reasons." He stated.

"Which are…?"

The corner of his mouth twitched. "He seems to care about you in any case."

He clasped my cheeks between his palms, focusing his intense stare into my now wide, frightened eyes.

"What are you doing?" I panicked as I felt my body freeze. My thoughts became clouded. "Melandryn?"

His eyes narrowed behind the blindfold, the glow slitting through the cloth. He made an affirmative noise at the back of his throat and released me. I stumbled backwards, reeling and furious. My hand zipped through the air. Unfortunately it was snared at the wrist before it could reach its mark. I was fed up. By him, by Faeldryn, by this whole stupid world.

"Take me back to Dalaran, please." I grated, my breath huffing angrily. "I've told you all I know."

"Have you?" He pulled me towards him easily, even though I dug my heels into the ground. "I haven't finished all my questions though and," I sucked in a breath as his free hand reached back and tangled up in my hair, "I still have that debt to collect."

My heart raced a mile a minute. "You'd hardly want… _that_ ," I whispered, my mouth hanging open in surprise. "Please tell me you're not planning on…" I trailed off, trying to glean answers from his mostly covered façade.

My jaw dropped when he let me go, stumbling back as he let out a right bellow of a laugh. When the shock wore off I just stood there, my lips pursed and my foot tapping against the ground. He glanced up at me, throwing his head back again, those wickedly sharp teeth and curly horns twinkling in the starlight and the light shining down from the floating city behind me. I took in a deep breath, releasing it in a weary sigh.

"Are you quite finished?" I asked tartly as his hysterics died down. "I suppose I could stay up all night. It's not like I need sleep."

He waltzed over, shoulders bobbing, practically dripping with swag. "You should have seen your face." He chided, pointing. "Priceless!"

I raised an eyebrow, lifting my chin. "Huh," I curled my lip, "no need to tell me your age. You've got the disposition of a delinquent teenager."

"Aww," he bent, putting his hands on his knees and lowered himself as though he was talking to a child, "someone butt-hurt over a little joke?"

"No." I grabbed one of his curly horns, tugging on it and shaking his head. "Just a bit miffed, and tired and I really want to get back to Dalaran."

I released him and turned my back to him, walking towards the edge of the tiny island on which we were currently standing. Dalaran floated above and before me, lit up like a beacon. The view was phenomenal, especially the scattering of stars stretching behind it. But however intriguing the sight, what I desperately wanted was a warm bed and a good night's sleep. Well, what whatever night-time was left. There was just a small problem.

"Hey, Melandryn?"

"Hmm?"

"How do we get back?"

I glanced over my shoulder at the sound of him walking to where I stood.

"Did you get a Hearthstone from the innkeeper?"

"A hea – what?"

He sighed, muttering something under his breath.

"You really are something else." I squeaked when he grabbed my hand, placing a smooth, oval object into my palm.

I looked at the rock and to back him.

"Whazzat then?" I turned it in my hands. It looked white in colour with an elongated blue spiral scrawled in the centre.

"It's a hearthstone." He pointed to it. "It's bound to the inn. If you use it you can teleport back to the city."

"Oh. Okay."

I stood there for about half a minute, looking at the stone. I turned it around in my hand, I tapped it with a finger and I pressed it between both of my palms. Nothing happened, not even a vibration or anything like that. I was perplexed as to how it was supposed to work.

"Hey, Melandryn," I turned to him. He was bent double, shaking in silent laughter. I growled under my breath, landing a heavy slap against the bare skin on his shoulder. "Oi!"

"By Elune." He wheezed, his voice more raspy than usual. "You looked as if you were going to _eat_ it." He straightened, nearly bursting back into giggles when he saw my face. "Here. I'll show you how it works."

I looked suspiciously at his hand, grudgingly placing the object back into his palm. He fiddled with it, pressing here and there. Suddenly he was engulfed in a blue glow, his form dissolving into nothingness. A liquid boom filled the air and I was suddenly left on my own.

"What the?"

I felt like the biggest fool to ever walk the earth.

"Oh my GOD!" I fumed, kicking the ground as I paced in an angry circle. "That's a classic! A fecking CLASSIC! That's Fairy tale levels of stupid." I threw my head up at the sky, wringing my hands in despair. "Why did I not see that coming?"

My answer was another gust of wind and, to my utter horror, raindrops. Perfect. Being the subject of practical joke wasn't enough. I had to be an utter drip as well.

"Oh come on," I shouted at the sky, flinging my arms up to the stars. "That timing's too perfect. It's almost like it's scripted."

My arms fell back to my sides with a damp flop. I wandered back to the rock and huddled down on the ground in front of it. My emotions plummeted with the same rate as the rain which was by now falling by the bucket load. The fresh water trickled down my cheeks like tears as I let my head hang. Dark, spindly strands of hair trailed down in front of my field of view, forming a ragged curtain around me.

What could I do now?

My hands clenched into fists. I stared down at them, watching the raindrops slide down my pale skin, almost corpse-like in the starlight. My chances of getting back to Ireland were looking less and less. I hadn't found any books which would have helped. I'd not been confident enough to take the proactive route and find a mage myself. Instead of looking for Davina, I'd gone my own way and run into Melandryn.

'Melandryn…'

My lip curled in irritation. Of the two I'd thought he'd be the easier brother to deal with, but no! The two were as bad as each other. One was a bipolar pervert. The other had a thing for tricks, or so I'd just found out. I wondered what kind of demonic power he possessed. Maybe it was Impish in nature. It certainly seemed that way.

The wind picked up again, biting even more now that I was sopping wet from the rain. I huddled into myself, pulling my knees up to my chest and bowing my head. The clothes I had on me did absolutely nothing to conserve any kind of heat. If anything they made me feel even colder. I probably should have walked around a bit in order to warm up, or at least attempt to find a way off this woebegone floating rock, but I just sat there quite literally wallowing in my own folly.

'Oh God, I really want to be back in that inn,' I lamented inwardly, squeezing my eyes shut. 'What I would give for a blanket.'

A noise to my left distracted me from my pathetic self-pity. I looked over, my tired brain struggling to make out what was going on. A large black bird had landed and was waddling over to me. The scaly, talon-tipped feet stopped just short of where I was sitting. It cocked its head, examining me with a curiosity which seemed far too intelligent for a raptor, even one of its size. I squinted. Something about it seemed oddly familiar.

My hand moved from its cradle between my knees and chest, gingerly reaching out to the creature. It twitched as my hand neared it and before I could touch it, it warped violently.

"Jesus!" I hissed, snatching my hand back and pressing myself to the rock at my back.

Faeldryn crouched where the bird once was, looking morosely into my eyes.

"Oh." I rubbed my tired eyes. "It's you."

No wonder it'd looked familiar.

"Aoibheann." He reached out a hand. "The innkeeper sent me looking for you. Why are you here?"

I smacked it away, glaring. Shock and hurt crossed his features, followed by realisation and reluctant acceptance. I huddled again and studied him. His long hair was bound to the back of his neck by a thick leather cord. He was still wearing those scruffy leathers stuck with twigs here and there. A thick hide cloak now sat around his shoulders though, the large hood was pinned down by the wind.

The feelings and recollections of the event from this afternoon, the very thoughts I'd been trying to run away from, now launched themselves to the forefront of my mind. I pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes, growling. Now was not the time. I was cold and wet and tired. Seriously. Give me a week and I'd be able to deal with this. Just not now.

'If you want to deal with it,' my sensible voice began, 'you might as well talk to him now. Get it over with.'

I really didn't want to, I wasn't ready…

'No more running. Stop being a baby.'

I rubbed my face, frustrated, and looked up at the elf before me. He hadn't moved an inch. He just stared with that plaintive expression, like _I'd_ done something wrong to _him_.

"What's your deal?" I asked, attempting to pin him with my stare. I don't know if it worked or not.

He blinked, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"What am I to you?"

He looked genuinely surprised at that. His eyes widened, his lips parted and his head tipped to the side in a frustratingly adorable way.

"What do you mean?" He frowned, narrowing his eyes.

"What do you think I mean?" I shifted, placing my hands firmly against the ground, supporting my weight with my palms and knees and I got right into his face. "The minute I got here, from what I can remember anyway, you hated me. You moaned about how useless I was, you made fun of me because of my weight and whenever I tried to make peace with you, you blew me off."

I breathed heavily, frustrated yet again at the familiar prickling behind my eyes. I wasn't going to cry. Not now.

"Why," I jabbed him in the chest with an accusatory finger. "Why the sudden change? Why, when you'd wanted nothing to do with me before, were you, are you all over me like a rash? Feck!" I spat out a strand of hair which had just blown into my mouth.

As I sat there huffing and puffing, my chin wobbling, he closed his eyes and muttered something under his breath. I made an indignant noise at the back of my throat when I felt his hand gently close around my own, the nimble fingers prying it from its demanding gesture into a softer stance. Those same fingers entwined with my own as he clasped our hands together, setting them on his knee. He opened his eyes and saw me puff up again, ready to snatch myself back and lay into him.

'Would he just answer me already?' I glared daggers at him, my free hand clenching into a fist, 'he should know by now that trying to distract me like this won't work anymore. I just want some fecking answers.'

"It's because of that time." He admitted, his voice hushed and deep.

"What?" I cocked my head to the side, still wary but confused.

I drew in a breath when he leaned in, bringing his face close to mine. As softly as if he was stroking a kitten, his free hand brushed my wet hair, teasing the spindly strands. Even though I tried to supress it, I shivered at the contact.

"I saw you," he continued, his glowing eyes going all soft, "with a fawn."

My heart thumped. The memory of that day came back to me. He'd been sent out to fetch me, and had been especially pissed off to find me covered in bruises and scratches. I hadn't told him of what had happened because I'd figured he'd have scolded me. We'd already been on pretty shaky ground and anything I'd done to not upset him had been a blessing to be honest. As it happened, he'd pretty much dragged me back to camp by the ear and grumbled the entire time he'd healed me.

What he didn't know, or at least what I'd thought he didn't know was that I'd fallen down the cliff three to four times trying to reach the fecking fawn. The two, him and his mother, had narrowly escaped a bear. However, the mother had been injured on her flank and as a result had gone lame. The baby had managed to escape unscathed but it had fallen off the cliff. It'd landed on a precarious outcrop which had looked relatively easy to reach by foot but in actuality I'd ended up nearly killing myself in trying to reach it.

It was a foolish endeavour, they would probably end up getting eaten by wolves or another bear, but I'd felt my heart breaking when I'd heard the pitiful crying of the fawn. It had sounded like a child. I'd felt so useless and helpless those past few days as well, recovering from both my shock at my spontaneous interdimensional travel and also my injuries which I'd picked up during that journey.

The thing about healing, Mordaan had explained, was that the wounds could only be healed to a certain extent. Even the most gifted and skilled healer could only do so much. They may be able to sew flesh and bone back together as easily as a Night elf would make a tunic, but the smaller parts, like the capillaries and the nerves and even individual strands of muscle had to heal on their own.

I was made to rest for two days, for fear of harming myself. There had been a massive amount of internal damage from the way I'd been battered about in that tunnel. If Melandryn hadn't have told Faeldryn of my whereabouts, I'd have been carrion long before morning.

So when I'd carried the thing back to its mother, who'd cleverly hidden herself in a bush, I'd put some ointment to their wounds and left. The buoyant feeling I'd felt having done the good deed had been shortly doused when Faeldryn had found me minutes later.

Yes, it was foolish, yes I'd most definitely risked more serious damage to myself. The irate elf had fretted over me like a mother hen, interrogating me to no end on whether this hurt or that hurt or if I'd started coughing up blood. Eventually Davina had taken over. She had a much better bedside humour.

"You saw that?" I felt his hand leave my hair. "Why didn't you say so? Why didn't you help me?"

The back of his knuckles caressed my cheek. "I wanted to see what you would do." He chuckled at my bewildered and almost betrayed expression.

"You saw the size of those cuts, didn't you?" I brushed his hand off, only to have it become clasped in his own. "You were overly vocal about how irritable it was to heal them, especially the scrapes on my back."

"Yes, I did." He smiled, the warmth of it making me feel giddy. "But that's what changed my mind about you." I watched as his face softened completely, the strong lines and angles almost melting away.

'My God,' I fought back a sigh, 'He's really, really good-looking.' No, don't fall for that, Evie. I'll be damned if I'd let him have his way just because he looks pretty.

"You risked your own safety," he began again, clasping both of our hands together, "falling off that cliff to help the deer. It was so foolish that I almost stepped in."

"Well, you know, see," I stuttered, attempting to downplay the endeavour. The awe in his voice was a little much for me, "sure anyone would have done it, wouldn't they?"

He shook his head. "They would have left it to die, and probably would have finished off its injured mother." I blanched. "But you carried it back, injuring yourself in the process anyway, and even wasted that ointment Davina gave you on the animals."

"That was my good deed for the day." I muttered defensively. "Are you saying I shouldn't have done it then?"

"No, I'm glad you did." His features schooled themselves into a more serious expression. "I'm sorry." His head bowed.

"Huh?"

"For how I treated you." I stared at him, confused. "I just wanted to show you how I felt but," he sighed, tightening his grip, "I'm sorry."

My mouth opened and closed a few times, with nothing coming out. That little confession completely stumped me. I'd expected him to give me a lecture about The Circle of Life or Survival of The Fittest. I wasn't expecting this, this humbled person in front of me.

"Um," He lifted his eyes up to mine, a hopeful expression on his face. "I, uhh," why did his stare make me feel so odd? "Tha-thanks."

My God, that smile. There's no way a smile like that should make anyone feel so warm and fuzzy.

"I do have a question though," I began.

"Yes?"

"Why," my nose wrinkled, "in God's name would you go all gooey-eyed over me helping a deer of all things?"

He released my hands and wrapped his arms around me, surprising me with a hug. His body sheltered me from the rain, even more so by him pulling his cloak around me. My cheeks coloured in sudden warmth leaving me, stupidly, wondering for a moment if he could see my embarrassment.

"I told you that I'm a druid, remember?" He said, his voice rippling through me from how close we were to one another. I nodded. "I didn't fully explain what it is we do."

"So what do you do then?" I asked, my voice muffled by his cloak and my face mushed against his chest.

"We're protectors of the Wilds." I wriggled a bit, trying to get some room, only freezing up when his chin rested against the top of my head. "We safeguard the wildlife of Azeroth. Of course we understand and respect the Laws of Nature, but your actions with the fawn," he pulled back and looked down at me, warmth pouring from him. "It was foolish, idiotic, but after witnessing how determined you were, I couldn't keep my prejudices of you."

"So," I said slowly, "how, how do you feel about me now then?"

He held me closer, pressing his forehead against my own. All I could see were those bright eyes, like miniature stars. Through the shining I could see he had slitted pupils, like a cat. But they were dilated widely with emotion.

"I don't hate you." He murmured. "You're rather adorable, for a human."

"That's very informative," I snorted, my face reddening further. "I don't, didn't necessarily hate you either." My voice lowered at my next words, hoping he didn't hear them, "hard not to hate something so pretty."

"Pretty?" He scoffed.

My eyes widened and I clapped a hand over my mouth. So he had heard it. He smirked. Now there was the Faeldryn I was used to.

I suddenly felt extremely tired. With that nagging question cleared up, I felt like I could relax. I didn't really feel too upset about those time he jumped me anymore. Looking back I noticed his behaviour seemed to change the day after the deer incident. He'd become more playful and teasing, rather than cold and aloof.

'Yet again, I didn't notice,' I thought, 'of course I didn't notice. I was too wrapped up in my own little world.'

Fatigue wrapped around me like a blanket. I yawned, slumping in his arms as sleep threatened to pull me under.

"I suppose we should go back to the inn." He shifted me in his hold, carrying me in the same way he did the night he found me.

"Hmmm…mmm" I mumbled, unconsciously snuggling up to him, mostly because he was warm and I was sopping wet and rather cold.

The last thing I heard before I gave into sleep was the sound of his footsteps and the soft pitter-patter of raindrops against his cloak.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

My God, it was hot.

"Hey Davina," I gasped, my breath short, "what exactly are we supposed to be doing here?"

The draenei looked over her shoulder at me with a withering stare.

"I told you before we left, you dolt." She said, fiddling with her sleeves. "We need to help to secure the area. The demon hunters," her lip curled, "need all the help they can get."

"Yeah, I know that," I tugged at the neckline of my jerkin, "you said I'd be able to talk to someone who can help me."

"Yes, but we need to finish here first."

I hung my head. Sweat dripped down my nose and trickled down my back. The air felt far too close, like I was being wrapped up in a hot, damp towel. The humidity was killing me.

"Am I even qualified for this?" I muttered to myself. "I'm certainly not built for the weather, that's for sure."

Davina had woken me that morning in a state of excitement and nervousness. She'd been called by the High priest to travel to Azsuna and help out the troops who were pushing back the Legion. I'd asked her why she woke me up to tell me and she'd told me that there was a very large chance that I'd be able to make contact with some powerful mages to help figure out how I was to get home.

Of course as soon as I'd heard that I'd been off like a shot, barely listening to the rest of what she told me was coming our way.

When we'd landed I'd had to take a few minutes to accustom myself to the sight. It was the same place we'd left not three days ago. At least I was sure we'd left somewhere in the area. We were on the coast anyway.

The pungent smell of seaweed, marine life and water was more enough to draw that conclusion. However, we'd landed in a warzone. Just ahead of us I'd witnessed a ramshackle camp, full of the dark and brooding Illidari, sporting their blazing tattoos and massive blades. They scurried about, bringing back their wounded comrades, patrolling on freaky-looking mounts and dashing out into the fray just a little ways away from the camp.

The camp itself had been hastily set up among the ruins of an eloquent yet bygone era. That much could be gleaned from the elegant tower, obviously Elvish, now housing a number of the demon hunters who were discussing matters in hushed tones. In the middle of the overgrown cobbles which made up the ground of the camp, was a pool. It still had water, but it was overgrown with aquatic flora to the point where the water was barely noticeable.

I glanced over to the left, noticing a tall pillar, atop which stood a statue of an elven lady. She looked like a Night elf. What else did they call themselves, Kadrye? Kaldie? No, Kaldorei. A small pang of sadness hit me for a moment when I noticed her heedlessness. As beautiful a statue it was, it was still a ruin, now marred by time.

Here and there were tents comprised of a dark purple material. Inside they were furnished rather sparsely; a stool here, a table there and of course weapon racks which housed those distinctive glaives. Movement to my right caught my eye.

Two human men were engaged in an animated and heated discussion. One had grey hair and was dressed in impeccable grey robes. The other had a pious air about him, enhanced by his ivory garments edged with gold and the impressive-looking staff strapped to his back. They were then noticed by a blue haired demon hunter who marched over and another debate ensued.

I blinked when, having seemed to have finished with the demon hunter, the grey man suddenly turned and in a puff of smoke, turned into a raven. The little bird flew off, wheeling above us. I craned my neck to watch its passage, noting that he was heading back for Dalaran.

'That guy must be either very important,' I thought, 'or very cowardly.'

Davina marched over to where the human stood and saluted. He must be the High Priest she'd been going on about. I made a mental note to talk about the religion of this place later. They discussed something at length. The content of the matter seemed to be of much importance if Davina's gestures were anything to go by. I turned away from their discussion, looking about some more.

My heart stopped when I looked just ahead of the outpost. It was as if a portal to Hell had been opened. The area, like the Illidari camp, was in the midst of the remains of an antiquated settlement of elegance. Craggy rocks jutted up from the rocky ground, littered here and there with patches of grass and the ruins of a once elegant stone bridge sagged ahead and to the left of the camp. However, where there should be the tranquillity of antiquity there was only chaos.

The shouts, cries and clashes of steel fell upon my ears. I stared into the heaving fray as I watched the Illidari flit about with their wicked glaives and carve up demon after demon. I saw elves, humans, those tauren running around, some appearing to be warriors, some hunters. A mix of green-skinned hulks and waif-like pointed-eared elves clashed with a pack of demonic soldiers, their cries of rage muffled by the rest of the fearful din.

Dog-like monstrosities pounced on stragglers and giant bat-like creatures flew overhead, diving down every now and again to harass the soldiers below. I noticed that when the demons came close to the camp they were bombarded with purple orbs emanating from grotesque statues placed on the perimeter.

As I studied them, Davina reappeared behind me. I jumped when she startled me by patting my shoulder. Her eyes held an insistence.

"What are those?" I pointed to the closest one. It looked as though the Devil's skull had been mounted onto a pedestal. The empty eye sockets lit up with an evil-looking emerald fire. They were dotted around the barricaded perimeter.

"Those are the demon wards." Davina moved her head as though she was looking for someone. "We need to go out there," she pointed to the mayhem which was the battlefield, "and help out with reactivating the rest of them."

I felt the blood drain from my face. My mouth opened, nothing but a puff of air coming out. I tried again.

"I'm going back to Dalaran." My knees wobbled as I turned. "Ack!"

"Oh no you don't." Davina said as she caught me by the neckline of my jerkin, nearly choking me. "You want your info, you need to work for it."

I whirled to face her, grasping her wildly by the forearms. "Davina, look at me." I said, choked. "I'm not a fighter. One minute out there and I'm about as useful as a chocolate teapot. How on earth would I be of any help? Bare-knuckle Boxing is all well and good but against swords? Guns? Maces?" I flapped my arms inn helpless indignation.

She bonked me on the head, laughing.

"You idiot." She said as I scowled at her, rubbing my head. "You have me don't you? I won't let you get hurt. As long as you stay close, you'll live. Besides," she gestured to next squad of departing troops, a mix of Illidari and other fighters. "It's not as though we're the only ones here."

I hugged my elbows and stared at the ground. She did have a point, a valid ne at that. I still couldn't shake the feeling that something would go horribly wrong though.

'Come on Aoibheann.' I told myself, 'stop being such a baby and get on with it.'

"Let's get this over with then." I grumbled, feeling very unfit and squishable.

Davina smiled at me, the expression instilling a minute amount of confidence in me. She was right. As long as I stayed with her, things would be fine. I trotted to keep up with her as she set out of the camp, sticking close with the squad of fighters who'd just left.

I jogged with her to keep up, wanting nothing more than to turn tail and flee back to the safety of the camp. All around me there were soldiers of all races and classes being swarmed by demons. The wretched creatures seemed to come from a never-ending source. Their horrid screams filled my ears, making my stomach lurch and constricting my throat in terror. Water splashed around my boots from the puddles in the uneven ground.

I stumbled quite a bit, nearly tripping up completely, only to be saved by a rather irate female Illidari covered with scaly skin and armed to the teeth with knives and daggers along with those huge glaives on her back. She gave me one of the deadliest glares when I bumped into her that I thought I would spontaneously combust right there and then.

A shout from one of the hunters in the front made me look up ahead. I stumbled again, this time from pure terror. A gigantic golem-looking creature was bearing down on us. It looked as though someone had picked up a handful of flaming green boulders, stacked them in the rough shape of a humanoid and then brought them to life. It, like the rest of the place, was glowing a sickly green and wreathed itself in emerald flame. The scream which emanated from its rocky mouth cut through me like a knife, making me freeze on the spot.

"Come on."

Davina's hand closed around my upper arm, nearly lifting me off my feet as she dragged me away from the now-unfolding mayhem. The group which were following were now leaping towards the rock-giant thing and I could hear the clashing of metal against stone as well as harsh shouts.

"What is that thing?" I asked the draenei who was trotting towards a pedestal-like object sticking out from the ground.

"It was an infernal." She replied, setting me down beside the object.

I flinched away from it. It looked horrible. A horned, grinning skull sat atop a squat, ringed pedestal. I felt as though it was looking at me. A silly thought, but considering the nature of this world, I wouldn't be surprised if it was true.

"How exactly are we supposed to re-activate this thing?"

"You don't, I do." I looked at her, puzzled.

"Why did you bring me here then?"

She pulled something from her pocket and crouched at the base of the ward, fiddling. I stood there, painfully aware that I was in the middle of a full-on battle and I was strangely not as afraid as I should be.

'I suppose if anything happens I'll be okay anyway,' I mused, staring at Davina's back as she fidgeted a little more.

My attention was caught by a sound behind me. It was a short, scuffing sound. I stiffened, frowning. It was almost like the sound of leather against stone.

"What the-?" I turned, only to collapse onto my side. All the strength I possessed had been sucked out of me. I'd been blinded as well.

My heartbeat thumped in my ears. Davina cried out in surprise and anger somewhere behind me, her voice muffled as though she was underwater. What had just happened? Did she finish the job? What was going on behind me? My vision came back. Golden light erupted behind me, bathing everything with a liquid radiance. I felt the strength return to my limbs little by little. My hearing sharpened and my thoughts quickened.

'I need to help her,' I thought as I struggled to sit up.

Another golden shower rained down upon me, filling me with renewal. I sat up and got to my feet, turning to where the chaos was, only to have a massive wall of muscle slam into me, knocking me back down. Dazed, I blinked blearily up at a hulking figure blocking my line of sight.

They moved, bringing back an arm and launching the appendage towards me with frightening speed. I couldn't even squeak as what felt like a miniature battering ram launched itself into my stomach, nearly bringing up my breakfast.

The world spun around me, settling when I found myself draped over a thick shoulder. My eyes locked with Davina's. She flung a hand out to me, her mouth moving rapidly, shaping words. A shadow flitted just behind her.

"Look out!" I croaked, weakly, noticing the waif-like person just behind her.

It happened so quickly. The priestess was clouted upside the head by a heavy blow from the figure at her back. Metal flashed in the sun, hinting at the use of brass knuckles. I wriggled in the hold of whoever had caught me, bringing my elbow down against the heavy leather armour.

My reward was a gruff shout and a clip around the ear, so strong I nearly lost consciousness. The woman whistled, calling another person to her side, dressed in similarly dark leather. When Davina was also hoisted up, the slight figure turned, stopping my heart and breath.

It was Alysria.

Shock left me empty. We began to move quickly, away from the demon hunters, the battle, and the job which we had yet to finish, and also my only possible chance of going home. Helplessness welled up as I saw the Illidari's stand rapidly diminish until it vanished completely from sight. The land under my captor's feet changed from rough cobbles and scraggly grass to lush meadows of wildflowers and craggy boulders peering up from here and there.

I barely noticed the change though. My gaze was fixed on the blonde elf who looked here and there, making sure we weren't being followed. Ice pooled in my belly, slowly slinking its way up from my gut and clenching around my throat, silencing the torrent of abuse I wanted to hurl at her.

After a good twenty minutes we stopped under the shelter of a gnarled olive tree. I was dropped on my backside. A slew of foul language left my mouth as I glared up at the hulk who'd hefted me about like a sack of potatoes. From what I'd read and gleaned from Davina, Fenrich and Mordaan, I'd presume that I'd be right in guessing that this brutish figure was an orc.

A seven foot green skinned orc at that, leered down at me, cracking his knuckles. Sharp tusks bored with rings jutted out from his lower lip, which twitched into a self-assured grin. His dark, braided hair and beard swung heavily with the movement of his stance, begging for me to have a crack at him. I bristled but didn't move, though every part of me wanted to leap at his face and claw that cocky smirk from it.

I turned my back on him, pointedly ignoring him and looked around for Davina. My heart calmed in relief to see her placed gently against the trunk of the tree, seemingly unharmed aside from the fact that she was unconscious. A booted foot slammed down in front of my face, barely missing my fingers when I made an attempt to crawl over to her.

"Ah-ah-ah," a goading voice chided.

My eyes travelled upwards to see a Blood Elf. He had blonde hair, like Alysria, which was short but well-kept. The strands glinted like spun sunlight. As well as the customary upright pointed ears and luminescent green eyes. He actually looked very similar to her, they could have almost been siblings.

I squinted. Yes, the same set to the mouth, although his was crooked up into a playful smirk rather than being pursed into a pout. They both had those delicate cheekbones and the same well-defined jaw. Even their posture mirrored a sense of self-importance and arrogance.

His well-honed figure, posed like he thought he was God's own gift, was clad in dark leathers, a pair of wickedly sharp and foreboding daggers sat sheathed at his hips, with the hilts of a few more peeking out from the rim of his boots and another sheath strapped to the outside of his thigh.

"Who the feck are you?" I wheezed, slipping my feet under me and standing, slightly hunched from the blow to my stomach.

"Hmmmm," He leaned down, examining me. "He didn't tell you? Such a pity." I noticed he was easily six foot six, much taller than me. Were all elves this tall?

"What are you on about? I don't know you." I shuffled backwards, bumping into the orc who shoved me forwards again. I threw anacidic glare at him over my shoulder before turning back to the elf. "I'll ask again: Who are you?"

"I am Ardalthian Solastre." He bowed, the gesture flamboyantly mocking. "You've already met my dear sister, Alysria, although she's not overly fond of using her family name." He turned to the slender woman leaning against the tree, absently flipping a knife. "Isn't that right, my dear?"

His sister pulled a face at him and casually threw her dagger towards him. I flinched when he caught it, sure that it was going to hit him.

"Why am I here?" I asked him, inching towards Davina's current resting spot. "I have nothing to do with you." I glared hotly at Alysria. "Any of you."

"Actually, that's where you're wrong, sweet pea." Ardalthian sauntered forwards, stopping me in my tracks. He flicked his blade under my jaw, forcing my face up to his. "You see, I have a certain grievance with your good friend. My darling sister," he jerked his head back, gesturing at the blood elf who was eyeing the interaction with dismissive amusement, "discovered that this person holds a particular…affection towards you."

"Friend?" I said, "Which friend? Mordaan? Fenrich?" Ardalthian snorted and cocked his head. He raised an eyebrow, seeming to ask me to continue. "Faeldryn…?"

A breath of relief escaped me when the blade left, only to be surprised by his next move. I gasped as he grasped my wrist and pulled me close, his emerald eyes boring into my wide, fear-filled ones.

"I would be a fool not to exploit this little weakness." He purred, "Perhaps I'll have a little fun while we're waiting."

"So what, you want to lure him here and beat him up?" I stiffened when the tip of the blade snapped back to my throat, the edge just kissing my skin. "What did he do, exactly?"

"Nothing you need to know of." Ardalthian said curtly, narrowing his eyes. "You'd do best to not trifle with me human." My skin prickled when he ran the back of his hand over my cheek. "All you need to do, sweet pea, is wait here and behave, got that?" He leaned in and put his lips to my ear. "Cross me and there'll be Hell to pay." The undercurrent of venom in his whisper gave me no doubt of that.

"What," I raised an eyebrow, feeling deliriously confident even as my hands shook. "You going to beat me up too?"

"No," he drew back and ran a tongue over his teeth, flashing those needle-like canines in a bright smile. "I have something more special in mind."

Horror clenched in my gut at the way he was eyeing me up. It was the same look a fat child would give to an oh-so appealing slice of chocolate fudge cake. I clenched my jaw and pressed my wobbling lips together. He noted my change in expression, his own softening into one of false reassurance. Still keeping his eyes burning into mine, he turned his head to the side and called his sister.

"Alysria."

His sister appeared at his side.

"What?" She asked, plucking her knife from its place at my neck.

"Take her over to the draenei, if you would be so kind." She obliged and pulled me away, her face set in a neutral, almost bored façade.

"Oh, before you do," her brother called just as we were halfway to our destination. "I almost forgot. Come here, sweet pea."

I turned to see him beckon me to him. My knees locked. I couldn't move. This fear which held me, I'd only ever experienced it in school. This intimidation, the sadistic look in that man's eyes, was the same sickening satisfaction I'd seen in my worst enemies' eyes when I'd been in school.

It was the look my bullies gave me.

He stepped over, that swaggering gait mimicking the same stride I'd seen with his sister. I trembled when he stopped in front of me, cocking his head to the side and studying me with a cold curiosity. It was as if I was a beetle crawling over his boot and he was contemplating moving me or crushing me.

His hand came up again, his fingertips trailing along my jaw to my ear. They were rough with callouses. His mouth crooked in a soft smirk when he saw me flinch at his touch. Still holding my gaze, he reached behind my head and took a firm hold of my braided hair. I winced when the force of his hold tugged at the tightly braided strands at my scalp.

'What's he doing?' I thought, still frozen.

His eyes narrowed, making the smirk more sinister. I saw him raise the dagger, the light flashing wickedly in the sun. My breath caught when I realised what he was going to do.

The blade flashed.

I heard a faint 'snick.' He pulled his hand back, my braid in his clenched fist. Alysria walked over and collected the espresso-coloured plait.

"Give this to him." He kept looking directly at me, waiting for my reaction. "Tell him whatever it takes but make sure he gets down here." She nodded and left.

A soft breeze blew through the grass, bringing a sweet smell. My hair, or at least the remnants of it, feathered around my ears, freely blowing in the wind. I raised a shaky hand, threading my fingers through whatever remained of my most prized and treasured feature. My head bowed, tears pooling in my eyes, dripping into the grass below. The reality of what had happened sunk in. At first I was devastated.

I quickly became angry.

'The bastard cut my hair.' I thought, snapping my head up and locking eyes with the elf. 'He cut my hair.' My mouth tightened into a furious line.

"You cut my hair." I whispered.

His glee at my upset quickly morphed into shock when I leaped at him, roaring. My fist drew back and snapped forwards, connecting with his cheek and catching him off guard. He stumbled back a few steps, licking his lips and touching the red mark on his face. Working his jaw from side to side, he chuckled dryly and gave me a vicious smile.

"Oh, now that's not very nice." His hands clenched into fists. A chill went through when I saw his eyes light up. "You have a good right hook, I'll give you that."

"You knife-eared waggon." I spat, circling him. He mirrored my movements, crouched and waiting. "You don't just cut a girl's hair like that. What the fuck is wrong with you, man? Do you even know how long it took for me to grow it out?" With another yell I rushed towards him again, wanting to pummel that sadistic smile of his to the ground.

I nearly fell on my face when he dodged at the last minute, leaving me floundering in empty air. I heard a laugh from behind me. Before I could turn, he'd locked an arm around my middle and held a dagger in the vulnerable dip in my clavicle.

"I told you," he murmured in my ear, "I told you to behave. Now look what you've done." I cried out when he pressed down on the blade, drawing blood. "You've gone and pissed me off."

"What the hell do you expect? Lord." I gnashed my teeth, desperately wanting to slam my heel into his shins and elbow him in the gut but any movement could spell my death. "You kidnapped me, you cut my hair. For what? Something I don't know and have no idea of just because I'm supposedly friends with someone. Someone you won't even name."

My chest rose and fell rapidly, the stress and adrenaline leaving me lightheaded and frustrated. I froze when I felt his lips brush against my ear.

"You know," he said, leaning in, pulling me closer against him. "You're not that awful looking for a human." I squeaked when I felt his sharp teeth nip my skin, revulsion washing over me. "Maybe we can have a little fun while we wait for your darling friend to arrive."

My skin crawled as his tongue flicked over the sensitive rim of my ear, then travelled down the side of my neck.

"Get your hands of me." I hissed, shaking with rage.

"Hmmm?" He pulled back. "Not enjoying it, are we? Too bad."

With a sigh he withdrew the blade from my throat but didn't release me. Instead he dragged me over to where the tree was, sitting down beside Davina's unconscious form and pulling me into his lap. I growled and wriggled, jabbing my elbow back in an attempt to clock him for one again. He responded by biting my ear yet again, this time much harsher than before.

"Aaaggghhh! Fuck!" I stilled, pressing my shoulder up to the wounded tissue. "The bloody Hell is wrong with you, man?"

"Keep quiet and sit still." He said silkily pressing his mouth against my skin and tightening his hold around my middle.

"Like feck I will, fecking pointy eared –"

My voice stilled when I saw a familiar figure appear in the distance. A proud, familiar stag galloped in our direction, the sun gleaming off its pristine white coat. Ardalthian gestured to the orc, who nodded lumbered out of view. I'd almost forgotten he was there.

Apprehension pricked in my chest when the deer neared our location. It stopped a few feet away, shifting into the Night Elf I'd grown to know. Faeldryn strode towards us, his face set, amber eyes blazing in anger. I caught a glimpse of something dangling in his clenched fist. It was my hair.

Movement behind him grabbed my attention.

"Faeldryn. Look out, there's –"

I was silenced by another bite to my ear, as well as a hand over my mouth.

"Now, now," The Blood Elf scolded me. "We don't want to spoil the fun now, do we?" I whimpered. "There's a good girl."

I snapped at his retreating fingers, trying to bite his hand. He responded by brutally pulling on a clump of my hair and wrenching my head back. I cried out, the blatant exposure of my neck rendering me vulnerable.

"Go on," Ardalthian goaded, trailing a finger down the column of my throat. "Try that again." I gulped, my pulse thundering under his fingers which came to rest at the juncture of my neck and collarbone. "No? Smart choice." He brushed his cheek against mine, the feathery eyebrows tickling my skin. "Be good now and I'll reward you later, sweet pea."

'This guy is insane,' I shivered, freezing up when he leaned back. I desperately hoped and prayed that there wouldn't be a 'later.'

The Blood Elf lounged against the tree trunk, pulling me with him. I lost my balance, practically sprawling against his body at the movement. Although he was relaxed, his muscles were hard under the leather. I felt his quiet chuckle against my back as he observed my open discomfort. My eyes caught Faeldryn's, fear welling up in me at his ferocious expression. He looked ready to kill.

"What is the meaning of this?" The Night Elf bellowed, lunging towards the Blood elf holding me down. "What are you doing with her? We're not in open war. There's no need for such blatant hostilities, Ardal."

"Ah Faeldryn, how nice of you to join us. You're in good health I presume?" The man behind me ran his fingers through my short hair as he spoke, making my scalp prickle. "This particular meeting has nothing to do with Faction conflict. In fact," He curved his body over mine from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder and drawing me against him. "You've been skimping out, Felly. Who's your lovely friend here?"

Faeldryn's left ear twitched, a tic I'd picked up on for when he was especially upset.

"Let her go, Ardal." He growled, struggling against the orc's hold. "She has nothing to do with this."

"No?" The Blood Elf buried his face in my short hair, inhaling deeply. "Oh yes, I can see why you might have taken to this one."

Another attempted lunge by Faeldryn was also accompanied by his enraged snarl. His bared teeth and contorted face reminded me of a caged tiger. The dishevelled turquoise hair and glowing eyes made image even more eerie and frightening.

"Ardal, what do you want?" He spat, his voice dripping with hostility.

"I think you know the answer to that." Ardalthian's mouth pressed against my cheek.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"No?" The Blood Elf cupped the side of my face with one hand when I tried to lean away, repulsed by his actions. "Perhaps if I do this," I froze when he tilted my head, capturing my mouth in his.

My cry was muffled when he took advantage of my shocked state to plunge his tongue into my mouth. Against my will, my cheeks burned and my heart thudded. I stared up into his smug, emerald gaze through dazed, hooded eyes. He broke off the kiss with a wet sound and a sultry purr, licking his lips.

"Does that jog your memory?" He said silkily, turning his head to face the Night Elf whose face had turned even more ashen than usual.

"I swear by Elune, I'll kill you." Faeldryn's voice was deathly quiet. "I don't know what all of this nonsense is about but I can promise that if you don't stop touching that human, you're dead, mana sucker."

The Blood Elf laughed, almost amused. "You've really taken a liking to this little thing, haven't you?" He rested his cheek against the top of my head. "But then again, she is rather sweet." His thumb brushed against my lips. "Very sweet."

His nail pricked the tender flesh of my mouth. I snapped out of my daze just then and jerked my elbow back, catching my captor in the abdomen. He grunted, holding onto me even more tightly. Panting, I pulled at the arm around my middle. When that didn't work I hit back with my elbow again. The elf retaliated by adjusting his hold so that both of my arms were pinned against my sides.

"Now what did I tell you, sweet pea?" He chided, tutting. "I was hoping I didn't have to do this."

He pressed a palm flat against my chest and I felt my heartbeat stutter. A pale glow was accumulating around the spot where his hand was. I felt all of the energy drain out from my limbs, leaving me to sag complacently against the elf like a rag doll. When he removed his hand from my torso, I could make out a pulsating, white orb floating in his grasp. It quickly became absorbed into his skin. I heard him sigh behind me.

"Ardalthian!" Faeldryn roared, struggling wildly against the orc. "You'll pay for that you green-eyed scum! Release her!" He kicked back against the orc, hissing when the big brute slammed a meaty fist against the back of his head.

"You truly don't remember?" There was a tinge of angered disbelief in Ardalthian's voice. "Or have you just made yourself forget?"

"I truly don't know what you're saying." Faeldryn growled. "But whatever it is I'm sure Aoibheann has nothing to do with it. Please, just let her go."

"Let me ask you this, Faeldryn." He pulled my body flush against his, "does the name 'Altherya Dawnchaser mean anything to you?"

Faeldryn stilled, bowing his head. His face shifted from rabid fury to dismay and also, I frowned, guilt.

"I, I," he took a deep breath, "I had nothing to do with her."

"Liar!" Ardalthian snarled, snapping his arms around me in a crushing grip. "You took her from me, you troll-eared scum!"

"You know that's not true." Faeldryn said, "You know what happened, Ardal. Please, let Aoibheann go and we can talk. I promise," he looked pleadingly at the Blood Elf, "I won't run anymore."

My blood ran cold as the laugh of the Blood Elf vibrated through my back.

"No. You've had ten years to talk," I gasped as Ardalthian grasped the neckline of my jerkin. "Now I'll make you watch," he pulled on the ties, ripping the leather, "and you'll feel the same pain I had to endure when you took what was rightfully mine!"

The sound of tearing fabric was loud in the sunlit meadow, as was my strangled scream of horror. I still couldn't move and so my upper torso, save for my bra, was bared for all to see as the elf tore my jerkin clean off. I whimpered, shivering as a hot, calloused hand slid over my exposed flesh.

"Stop…stop it," I whispered, only to have a finger press against my lips in response. "Let me…let go."

"No, my dear." He crooned, his hand roaming from my clothed breasts over the bare skin of my stomach, "it won't work that way."

"Stop…please…" I begged, beginning to struggle as strength returned to my limbs, little by little. I could barely move with the fear, the shock at being violated, _humiliated_ in such a degrading manner. "Please let me….let me…go…"

Another cry escaped me when he tore at my breeches, ripping the thin leather. I was completely exposed, save for my underwear covering my modesty. From the way his hand wandered, that was about to come off next. My eyes squeezed shut, moisture leaking out from under the lids. My breath quickened as I anticipated his next action. Dread and despair trickled through my veins when one hand slunk down to the cleft between my legs and the other, releasing my wrists, grabbed one of my breasts. I felt him begin to pull at the fabric.

'Please God, why can't I move?' I thought desperately. 'Help, please.'

"Faeldryn," I wept, shivering as the Blood Elf's fingers down below began to press with newfound insistence.

A guttural roar snapped my eyes open and stilled the fingers of both hands. In the place where Faeldryn once stood, a bear now grappled with the orc. It swiped and opened up a row of welts on the orc's chest, blood streaming down in torrential rivulets. The green skin bellowed and swung an axe, which had previously been holstered on his back.

The bear dodged, surprisingly nimble for its massive bulk. It retaliated by darting forward and catching the green skin by the throat and began to shake its head back and forth, like a dog with a chew toy. I sat frozen, morbid fascination and pure terror keeping my eyes on what was unfolding before me.

The huge orc, built like a tank, was flopping boneless and helpless as a ragdoll. I could hear his bellows and yells of pain quickly turn into a Hellish gurgle. His lungs punctured and his torso imploded from the crushing force of the bear's hold. Blood poured from his mouth with a wet, sloppy gargle, making me want to throw up.

The body went limp, the green orc moved no more and the bear opened its jaws. I flinched at the thud as the dead meat hit the grass, blood staining the vibrant strands and feeding the earth. The bear turned towards us, viscous green fluid and saliva dripping from its ferocious maw, staining the dark fur with proof of its act.

I fell back against the tree and banging my head as the elf behind me disappeared, reappearing behind the creature. He leaped high into the air, his daggers held so the blades pointed downwards, ready to stab and cleave at the monster's flesh.

The creature dropped its shoulder and rolled, snarling in pain as its flesh was grazed by the razor edged knives. Ardalthian flipped gracefully, just touching off the ground before leaping towards the creature again, his blades poised for stabbing. The bear was ready for him this time and caught him mid-air with a heavy blow from his paw.

The Blood Elf cried out, knocked back and rolled as he hit the ground. Gasping, he collected himself into a crouch, spitting to the side and pulling a smaller blade from a sheath in his boot. With a flick of his wrist he threw the dagger at the bear. The blade sunk deeply into the creature's flank, a viscous fluid dripping from where the hilt protruded.

The bear snarled in anger and pain, charging the dagger wielding rogue and slamming into him. The elf made to jump out of the bear's path but the creature had gone into a berserker rage. It darted and caught the rogue in his midsection with those monstrous fangs of his and he shook his head back and forth like a dog with a chew toy.

My body went numb and my mind went blank as I watched the Blood Elf's body break, blood flying from his mouth as the life was thrashed out of him. I could hear the snapping of bone and tearing of cartilage from just how violently he was being thrown about.

When the slighter man had weakened enough, the bear opened his mouth and allowed the elf to drop. As he lay on the ground, helpless, the elf lifted an arm up, his hand clenched into a weak fist, and brushed the bear's leg before the strength left him entirely and his arm dropped. The bear then ducked his head down, his lip snarling and fixed his mouth on the rogue's neck, snapping it with a quick jerk of his head.

My heart nearly stopped when, once the bear lifted his head up again, it turned and faced me. I cowered, curling up and peering fearfully at the creature through my arms.

The beast lumbered to where I sat, trembling, covering my body with my arms. The closer it stepped the more I pressed myself against the tree, huddling away from the furry mountain.

'Is this how it ends?' I whimpered internally, begging the creature with my eyes to not do anything. 'Am I going to be bear chow?'

A small whine, barely audible, escaped my throat when the bear stopped, not three feet away. The metallic tang of blood tickled my nostrils as the breeze blew past us both. I eyed the massive claws, the jagged teeth jutting out from its mouth and the muscle definition showing through its thick furry coat. It bent its head, sniffing the air around me.

"Don't come any closer," I warned, my voice wobbling. "Stay right where you are, or I swear to God, I'll turn you into a coat."

Why the Hell was I trying to talk to a bear? As if it could understand human speech. It was just a dumb animal.

'Who do I think I am?' I scolded myself, still eyeing the bear, 'a Disney princess? Get real.'

The great beast lowered its head and closed its eyes. I frowned. Was it shrinking? It was. Only then did it click.

'Oh my God, I'm such an idiot.'

Faeldryn fell to his hands and knees, his face contorted in pain. I immediately rushed to catch him, forgetting both my terror and current state of undress. The dagger was still embedded in his shoulder, the viscous green liquid hissing where it touched his leather armour.

I yelped when the entire weight of him fell upon me, nearly smothering me. Seven feet in height equalled a lot of muscle, especially one with his build. His ragged breath and obvious pain and weakness brought a torrent of worry welling up in me, nearly sending me into a state of panic.

Not knowing what else to do, I manoeuvred him so he lay on his back in the soft, springy grass. His eyes, although screwed shut with pain, were thankfully closed.

'Focus, Aoibheann. Modesty can wait. You've an injured man on your hands.'

"Okay, okay." I muttered, mostly to reassure myself. "Everything's going to be fine." My teeth gnawed on my lower lip in worry.

I needed to check for any more injuries. My gaze slid over his body. His chest rose and fell with heavy, agonised breaths. Aside from the dagger stuck in his shoulder, he seemed to be perfectly fine. The hulking orc had only restrained him, not clobbered him.

A shudder went through me at the sight of all the blood soaking his clothes. It wasn't his own but there was just so much and the smell was enough to make my throat close up. I quickly clamped a hand over my mouth before I threw up.

Poisoned dagger. Fix it.

I reached out and grasped the hilt, eliciting a grunt from the elf below me. His eyes snapped open, the brightness dulled slightly in his pain. He latched his gaze on me, the intensity making me freeze. A gentle hand closed around my arm, stopping me from pulling the weapon from him.

"Don't," he whispered hoarsely.

I let go and brought my hand back, frowning at him, puzzled. He spoke again, gasping with every second word.

"….healing potion…backpack…red bottle…quickly…" Just as I turned he caught me by the elbow. "…need…blue bottle…"

"Both?"

He nodded, clenching his teeth as another wave of pain swept through him.

I stood and raced over to his pack, which had fallen in the tussle with the orc. Trying and failing to avert my eyes from the mangled corpses, I made my way back to the Night Elf. Sweat was beading on his brow and his breath was coming more quickly, the gasps harsh and not reassuring to hear.

I pulled out the red bottle and the blue bottle as he'd requested and held them out to him. He grimaced, sitting up and propping himself on his left elbow, facing me. With his other hand, he grasped the dagger and pulled it from his shoulder with a sharp cry.

I flinched at the sudden action, my eyes fixed on the torrent of mauve-red blood now pouring out from him.

"Red bottle," he gasped, his hand clamped over the wound.

I blinked snapping out of my daze and handed it to him. He took it from me with a blood-slicked hand, pulled the cork out with his teeth and downed the entire thing in a few heavy gulps. Once empty he gestured for the other bottle, which I handed over and he downed that one too. The blood flow slowed until it stopped completely.

He moved until he was sitting fully upright, pain still lining his features. Closing is eyes, he murmured under his breath, brow creasing in concentration. A shock of light burst from him, fading just as quickly as it'd come. I jumped back, frightened by the sudden, unexpected flare.

"What was that?" squeaked.

"I dispelled the poison," he replied. He seemed better, much better.

Actually, as he looked at me, completely pain-free it seemed I'd have been correct in the assumption that he'd made a full recovery. His glowing eyes widened and his lips parted in momentary shock, closing again and forming a wide, fanged grin.

"I wouldn't mind getting injured again if that's how my nurse would look."

I stared at him, the blood draining from my face in white hot fury.

"Seeing as you're so much better," I hissed icily, balling my fist in the collar of his reinforced leather tunic, "would you mind explaining what in the fuck is going on here?"

He blinked, the mischief fading from his eyes as the hardened.

"Nothing you need to know of." He said coldly. "It's been dealt with."

My fist shot out, catching him in the side of his jaw.

"Do you really," I punched him again, this time in the torso, "expect me to forget all about this? Really?" My knuckles stung from a good wallop I gave to his sternum, "When I was very close to being," My fist whipped out again, stopped by his hand, "raped?"

I bared my teeth at him, my chest heaving. He looked down on me, his mouth tightening into a hard line.

"What were you doing here in the first place?" He asked, catching my other hand which went for his face. "If you hadn't been here, he wouldn't have caught you."

I snapped. Wrenching my hands from his grasp I launched myself to my feet, kicking him in the ribs.

"How dare you!" I yelled, tears spilling down my cheeks. "To think you have the fucking balls to say that when it was _you_ he was after." I launched my foot out again. "How. Fucking. DARE. YOU!"

His hand closed around my ankle. I growled and tried to yank it free, falling on my backside when he gave it a tug.

"Stop it." He commanded, grabbing both of my wrists and pinning them above my head.

I screamed and wriggled, ramming my knee into his groin. His face screwed up, a gargled, choked sound escaping him as he fell to the side. I quickly rolled out from underneath him, darting to where the remains of my clothes lay. With shaking hands I pulled the tattered leathers over myself, knowing that I'd just set off a bomb for hitting him there.

'He deserved it. Bollix.'

"Ow." I winced, my hands fluttering around the gash on my collar, courtesy of the Blood Elf.

Because the blade had been so sharp, the cut was clean, but also very deep. I'd actually barely felt it. At least, that was the case, until I'd put my shredded clothes back on and the scraps of leather brushed against the mouth of the wound.

The dark, sticky blood oozed out from the throbbing wound, smearing and staining my skin and clothes. My fingertips became spotted with the fluid which stood out against my pale skin, bright like an accusing statement. Dread flooded my body and froze my limbs when my ears picked up on the sound of rustling grass and light footsteps.

Faeldryn had recovered.

I trembled, images of the bear and what he'd done to my two captors flashed through my head in quick succession. I huddled in on myself, debating whether or not to just get up and run. But Davina was still here, unconscious. I couldn't leave her, we still had that job to finish back at the demon hunter's camp. I also needed her help to find people who would know how to send me back home.

The footsteps edged closer and closer, each one causing me to twitch. The druid's booted feet came to a stop in front of me. I refused to look up.

"Aoibheann." He knelt down before me.

"Go away." I snapped.

"No. You're injured." His hand tugged at my arms covering my chest. "Let me see."

I smacked them off me, glaring.

"Whose fault is that, eh?" I hissed, re-covering myself, "You never warned me, never told me that there would be someone who had it in for ya." My jaw clenched. "I don't need your help. Piss off back to wherever you came from and leave me alone."

His nostrils flared, his mouth tightened and his eyebrows met, darkening those blazing amber orbs of his.

"Why must you be so childish?" He said through clenched teeth, forcefully pulling my hands away, ignoring my cry of outrage. "You'll suffer much less if I heal you here and now. Just accept my help."

"No!" I shouted, trying to pull out of his grasp. "You're always doing this. You're always telling me what's best for me and forcing yourself on me." I hiccupped, ducking my head as my eyes stung. God, why did I cry so much since coming here?

"Aoibheann…"

"Just heal me and go." My chin wobbled. "I can't…"

He surprised me by pulling me into a hug. I fought at first, straining backwards in an effort to break free.

"Shhhh," he whispered, gently running his hand over my hair and down my back in long, slow strokes.

I began to relax, breaking down and dissolving into a scared, sobbing wreck. All the while he held me, rocking from side to side and rubbing my back, whispering words of comfort and reassurance in my ear. The warmth of his body, the gentleness of his arms around me and the soothing timbre of his voice made my heart ache unfamiliarly. Unbidden, I pressed against him, seeking a closer contact.

My ear rested against his chest, the regulated thump of his heart soothing me. He made me feel safe, something I'd not experienced since my Nana passed away. Something I hadn't felt since last night, when he'd sheltered me in his arms and under his cloak. Even then, I'd felt something…more.

'It can't be,' I thought, my heart thumping wildly.

Was I falling for him? Or was it merely primal instinct winning me over? I'd never had contact with the opposite sex like this before. Perhaps that was it. Perhaps I was just being swayed by my hormones and newfound experiences. I sighed and pushed those thoughts away, indulging a little more in the satisfaction brought on by the physical contact.

With a sigh, I gathered my thoughts and pushed my feelings down. Now wasn't the time.

"Faeldryn?" I said, my tone meek.

"Yes?" He answered, his voice rumbling under my ear.

"Could, could you please heal me?" I bit my lip. "I'm sorry for, y'know. For kicking you and all that."

He breathed out a sigh and rested his cheek on the top of my head, idly threading his long fingers though the short tufts of my hair.

"It's not your fault." Guilt wracked his voice. "I did something in the past, not thinking of the consequences and you were the one who ended up being punished for it."

I pulled back, looking him square in the face. He wore a solemn expression. Even his ears looked droopy.

"Hey, don't be looking at me like that now." I bopped his nose, "so long as nothing like this happens again, it's grand."

He smiled, catching my hand and kissing it. I flushed at the gesture seemingly out of nowhere.

"Now," his hands went to the scrappy leather which used to be my jerkin, "let's have a look."

I tensed up when he removed the garment entirely, my arms snapping out to cover my assets out of reflex. Faeldryn snickered and pulled them away, frowning darkly when he saw the mess just below my neck. His large hand gently probed around the area, eliciting sharp hisses and gasps from me. Just when I was about to smack his hand away, which was now flat against the gash, he frowned.

The tell-tale green glow accompanied by the soothing rush told me that the job was getting done. I glanced down in fascination as the edges of the wound drew together, sealing up. A faint, pink line was all that remained.

"Thanks." I mumbled, looking up at him, suddenly very shy.

"You're welcome," he smiled.

I pointedly looked at his hand, which was still at my throat. He didn't move it. Huffing, I grasped his wrist and lifted it away, turning my back on him and struggling to put the jerkin back on. He reached over to help, only to make more of a mess.

"Leave it." I hissed, jabbing back at him with my elbow.

He grunted on impact and stopped, but he didn't back off. I gritted my teeth, turning to tell him to 'go away,' when I was shocked to see him get hit by a dazzling ray of light. A cry escaped him as he was hit again, and again. Only he moved away, searching for the source of the irritant, did the onslaught stop.

We both turned to the tree, where Davina shakily stood, arm outstretched, leaning on her staff.

"Get away from her, you lecherous troll-eared dolt." She growled, stumbling towards us.

"Davina!" I exclaimed, racing towards her. "Here," I took a hold of her free arm, putting it over my shoulders, "lean on me."

"Thank you, Aoibheann." She said gratefully.

The Draenei froze then, her white eyes widening in shock when she took in my full appearance.

"By the Light, child," surging with newfound strength, she grasped me by the shoulders and turned to look at me more closely. "What in the world happened to you? Your beautiful hair, your neck, your," she choked, "your _clothes_!?"

She turned her head to look at Faeldryn. I cowered from the murder in her eyes, amazed that the druid could stand straight, practically unfazed.

"What did you do to her?" She hissed, her lip curling.

"Nothing." He replied.

I nudged Davina and she frowned down at me, concerned.

"He's right." I gestured to my tattered clothes and misshapen bob. "Someone else did this to me. He came here to help."

Davina inclined her head. "Who?" She said, fervently.

"A Blood Elf who had an issue with faeldryn." I answered, my hands curling into fists. "He, Alysria and an orc captured us and brought us here. My hair was cut and brought to Faeldryn by Alysria to lure him out. Once he arrived the Blood elf," I swallowed, the words sticking in my throat as shame washed over me. "He tried…tried to…" My hand clamped over my mouth.

"Shhhh. It's alright." The Draenei's clawed hand patted the top of my head. "Where are they now?"

I pointed to the bodies in the long grass.

"Did the elf have a name?" She asked, her eyes narrowing as she looked out at the corpses.

"Ardalthian."

I felt her freeze. She released her hold on my shoulders, stood up to her full height, squared her shoulders, braced her hooves and faced Faeldryn head-on.

"Faeldryn," she said, her voice dripping venom, "we need to talk."

Faeldryn's eyes narrowed but he didn't seem too troubled. I, on the other hand, had shuffled away from her. I knew she wouldn't hurt me, I knew she was a lovely, bubbly person who loved putting flower petals in her tea. But the contortion of her face and the way her eyes burned, coupled with the bony protrusions on her head as well as the tall curling horns made her look more demonic.

Demonic and scary.

"It's been dealt with," The elf folded his arms, lifting his chin. "She's fine."

"Fine?" Davina boomed, gesticulating wildly with her staff. "Look at her! She's shaking, she's scared. Her clothes are gone and so is her hair. She was nearly raped!"

I flinched at the word, hugging my shoulders. Davina pointed at Faeldryn with her staff.

"I thought you said you'd resolved that issue long ago." She accused.

"I thought I did too." He shot back, glaring.

"Did you know that this would happen?"

He turned his head to the side, grinding his teeth. Infuriated, Davina slammed her staff against the ground, causing me to jump.

"Umm." I started. They both snapped their heads around to look at me. "What, what exactly is going on? What 'Issue,' is this you're on about?"

"It's noth –" Faeldryn began.

"– He made a mistake and now it's come back to bite him in the ass." Davina interrupted him with a sneer.

'Karma's a bitch.' I thought, looking at the two trying to melt each other with their eyes.

"When did you realise that the issue hadn't been resolved?" The Draenei demanded, pointing at the elf again.

"When Alysria arrived."

"And you let her _stay?!"_

"It was the least I could do," he argued, clenching his fist. "I had to pay for what had happened."

"Well," Davina marched up and grabbed him by the front of his tunic, lifting him clean off his feet. "You've paid," she snarled in his face. "You've paid with _her._ " She pointed her staff at me.

"I know!" The druid growled.

"Good." She released him, "hopefully you'll learn that your actions have consequences."

Faeldryn sneered and rolled his shoulders, his hands twitching at the daggers on his belt. Davina noticed the motion.

"Go on," she taunted, smirking. "Try it."

He didn't. Instead, he turned his back on the both of us and leaned forwards, shifting into the giant crow. The bird took off without so much as a backward glance and quickly shrank into a miniscule black speck against the pale blue of the sky.

Davina scoffed, marching over to where her pack lay by the tree. "He's a hundred years too young to beat me anyway." She muttered, seemingly to herself.

I stood awkwardly. The exchange had passed so rapidly, not to mention the rest of the events, that my brain was having a hard time with keeping up. One thing was for certain though. I'd most likely end up a sobbing wreck in the corner of the room at the inn later on tonight and the next time I meet Faeldryn, I'll not leave him alone until I got the truth about the circumstances which led to my almost-rape.

"Aoibheann, come here."

I turned on my heel and trotted over to Davina. She held out a set of clothes for me.

"Put these on, you look an absolute wreck."

"Thank you…"

I took them from her hands and examined them before shucking the tattered remains of my former outfit and donning my new assemblage. She'd given me a rather modest pair of trousers which fit quite snugly. I tucked them into my boots which, thankfully, had survived the onslaught of that perverted Sin'dorei. When I'd pulled the heavy cotton tunic over my head, I'd automatically reached in to pull out my hair. My fingers stilled when I was rewarded with nothing but empty air. The realisation hit me much harder than it should have.

'Stop being so vain.' I scolded myself, tucking the tunic into the waistband of the breeches and pulling the ties tightly. 'It'll grow back. It's probably for the best as well. Long hair is a disadvantage in a fight.'

That was another thing. If it turned out that I was stuck here indefinitely I really needed to learn how to defend myself. I hoped and prayed that that wouldn't be the case, that by the next few days I'd be back in Wicklow, hopefully staying over at one of my cousins' and working.

I had to hope.

"That looks rather nice on you," Davina cooed as I straightened.

I gave her a cheeky smile, "I look like a ragamuffin."

She shook her head, chuckling.

"Come on," I followed her as she began to walk back in the direction of the Illidari camp. "We need to get back and help."

When we turned up, the High Priest from earlier spotted us from across the camp. He looked mad. Davina said something unintelligible under her breath and cleared her throat.

"What in Light's name were you playing at, Priestess?" The man fumed, his intricate white and gold robes billowing in the wake of his purposeful stride.

"My most sincere apologies, High Priest," said humbly, bowing her head. "Unfortunate circumstances interrupted my work."

The man pinched his nose, breathing heavily. Although he was two feet shorter than Davina in height, I could sense a power pulsing from him. Maybe it was because of the awesome looking staff holstered on his back, or the way he seemed to glow from within, lighting up his short red hair and flowing robes. He glanced over at me, wrinkling his nose at my appearance.

"Who's this?" He asked, gesturing to me. "Is this your 'unfortunate circumstance?'?" Davina stiffened beside me. "Need I remind you of the rules of such associations, Priestess?"

"I'm afraid you're mistaken, High Priest." She ground out stiffly through a clenched jaw. "We're not involved in such," her mouth twisted, "relations."

The priest raised an eyebrow. "What happened then? While we were here, fighting off the Legion and aiding the Illidari, even rescuing a member of the Blue Dragonflight I might add, you were…?"

Davina's blue face paled. "We were ambushed by members of the Horde, High Priest." She leaned in, an epiphany of sorts glowing in her eyes. "Sir, did you mention the Blue Dragonflight?"

The man frowned suspiciously.

"What of it?" He asked, his tone clipped.

"N-never mind." The draenei stuttered, subduing her excitement and schooling her face behind a mask of neutral respect.

I straightened, feeling very awkward and out of place as the High Priest's eyes fixed on me.

"What's your name?" He asked, brown eyes boring into my own.

"Aoibheann," I gulped. "My name's Aoibheann."

"What are your talents, Aoibheann?" He gave me a cursory glance up and down.

"I well, uh, I," My eyes darted around, as I wracked my brain for answers. They landed on Davina's satchel, currently at her feet. My hand snapped out and grabbed it. "I carry Priestess Davina's bags."

Part of me died inside when the two gave me equally withering stares which had me questioning my intelligence. The Priest huffed and rubbed his face with his palms, shaking his head.

"Please tell me you reactivated at least one of the wards?" He said, peeping at her from over the tops of his fingers, sounding desperate.

Davina nodded. The man sighed in relief.

"Good, good. You can head back to Dalaran until further notice. I'll need to meet with Archmage Khadgar and Kayn Sunfury to plan our next move." He glanced sideways at me, "and to also tie up any loose ends."

"Yes, High Priest." Davina bowed respectfully as the man strode off.

"So," I said, fidgeting. "Where was this magician you were on about?"

My companion's face paled slightly.

"Unfortunately, that plan is no longer plausible." Her voice was strained. "Seeing as we were captured and didn't actually aid the onslaught here, there's no way for us to get near, let alone speak with the person we need."

"Oh." I said, my heart sinking like a lead weight. "So it looks like I'm stuck here for a while then." I drooped, my gaze fixing on my boots.

"Although…" She trailed off, tapping her chin with a finger. With a sigh she shook her head. "No, that couldn't possibly work."

"What? What won't work?" I tugged on her sleeve, a flicker of hope sparking inside me. "Please Davina."

"We can't." She brushed me off, her voice firm. "It would go against the High Priest's orders."

I tried to press the issue but she wasn't having it. And so, we'd ended up taking a ride back up to Dalaran, much to my frustration. We landed and dismounted in the golden afternoon sunlight. Still quite peeved, I turned to Davina to ask about what to do next, only to find she'd disappeared.

"Oh my God, Why?" I asked myself, striding through the city.

Shortly after speed walking in circuits around the place I'd sat myself down in the Legerdemain Lounge, lucky enough to snag one of those couches and nursing a pot of coffee. I'd reasoned that since I had nobody to go to and nothing to do, I might as well have started on some of the many books Davina had given me. The one I was reading now was a history of the world, although flicking through it I felt like I was reading a more summarised version.

Little by little, I slowly became engrossed in the book, entranced by the events from The War of The Ancients all the way up to the Scourge invasion, followed closely by the re-appearance of The Burning Legion, or The Burning Shadow as they called it in here. With each chapter I finished, I felt my appreciation and amazement of the races of this world grow. Twice they had fought back against the Legion, an all-consuming monster of an army, and here they stood again, defiant in the wake of a third invasion.

I reached out for my mug, taking a sip whilst keeping my eyes on the book. With a wretched gargle I spat the liquid back into its container. It was stone cold.

I blinked slowly, feeling as though there was sand in my eyes. How long had I sat here? Rubbed my eyes before shutting the book and placing it on the table in front of me. My joints popped and cracked as I stretched, yawning.

"Lord," I groaned, leaning forwards and pressing the heels of my palms to my eyes. "What I would do for a hot shower."

"Oh, do tell." A familiar, gruff voice said from next to me.

"Who's that?" I jumped, startled. My eyes landed on Fenrich, who gave me a smile and a wave from beside me on the couch. "Oh. Hi Fenrich."

"Good evening." He took a swig from a large tankard of something. "So, what would you exchange for a hot shower, eh?"

I raised an eyebrow at his suggestive grin.

"On second thoughts, I'll be fine with a bath in my room."

He laughed. "I'm just kidding." A frown creased his features, warping the scar even more. "What did you do to your hair? There's nothin' left."

"Oh that." I self-consciously ran a hand through the short, dark mess. "Um. I ran into some trouble out with Davina."

"What?" His eyes bugged. "Who'd you piss off so bad that they wanted to scalp you?" He gulped more of his drink. "Give me a name and I'll re-arrange their face for you."

"Hold on there now." I warned, holding a hand out. "There's no need for that. I wasn't the one they were after, I just kind of became caught in the middle by chance." I shook my head when he opened his mouth to ask silencing him. "It's been dealt with."

"Alright then." He gave me a suspicious glance but didn't probe any further. "Have you found anyone to help you out yet?" He finished his drink and called over a barmaid, taking a refill.

"No," I sighed, sipping my coffee and making a face. It was now ice-cold. "Davina took me down to Azsuna in the hopes that we may be able to talk with someone important if we made an impression by helping out but that was when we ran into trouble."

I asked the barmaid for a new pot of coffee and stared at the table as she waltzed off. "By the time we came back they'd pushed back the demons and the High Priest sent her on a new assignment." My nose wrinkled. "I got told off and sent back up here."

"Why do you think they got rid of you?"

"Fenrich, look at me." He gave me an up-and-down sweep. "I can't fight, can't use magic and I can't heal anyone either. What difference would I make, if any?"

"By 'I can't fight,' how bad is it?"

"Well," I frowned and tapped my chin thoughtfully. "My uncle on my dad's side taught me how to box, but that was when I was very young and I've since forgotten it except for the bare bones. I learned how to use a knife and a gun when I was training in the army, but then I got injured before we began to practice shooting."

"So, not much then." Fenrich concluded.

"No." I glanced sideways at him, catching his eye. "Would there be a chance of you helping me to expand on this knowledge? You know, how to heft a sword, how to mess someone up if you lose your weapon, that sort of thing?"

"Sorry doll." He shook his head, giving me a wry smile. "No can do, I'm afraid."

"What?" I exclaimed, incredulous. "Why the flip not? I'd be of some help down there on the Isles." Frustration welled when the man turned to me, folding his arms.

"I can't." He stated. "I'm not a huge fan of having women on the front lies in the first place." His eyes bored into mine as he talked. "You kill a woman, you kill an entire generation. That's what my old man kept telling me. Sure, there are some gals out there who can fight better'n I, but they're suited to it."

"And I'm not?" I felt my ears redden. "Is that what you're saying?"

"I didn't say that." He held a hand up. "Hear me out. The women down there have been fighting and training for years, 'kay? They know their shit. You?" I scowled, "look. Even if I did teach you, you'd only have the bare basics, you know? Besides." He scratched his chin, "I'm not in a position to be teachin'. I haven't got the time or energy for anything but this war."

"But you're not fighting the whole time, are you?" I coaxed. "Surely, showing me how to do something as simple as protect myself wouldn't be a huge toll on you?"

"You know that stuff already," he took another swig of his beer, "The Isles are no place for you anyway. Look at what happened today," He tugged on a tuft of my dark mop. "You lost your hair. Next time you might lose your life."

"I understand that," I glanced up as the barmaid brought back my hot pot of coffee. I paid her and poured out a cup, taking a sip. "I just, I want to at least help out in _some_ way, y'know."

He sighed. "If you're that keen, maybe Faeldryn would help you." My hands wobbled at the elf's name. "Night Elf women are more or less equal with their men so he should have no trouble showing you a few tricks."

"I'll keep that in mind." I quickly gulped down more coffee, scalding my tongue. "Ouch!" I hissed.

"I told you coffee is hot."

We both froze, whipping our heads around to the demon hunter leaning against the wall, idly flipping a coin. My hand shook when I laid eyes on him and I quickly set my cup back onto the table before I spilled coffee everywhere.

"I see you're in good form." I said to him coldly.

"Hmmm, and I see you're as spiky as ever." He grinned.

Fenrich said nothing, only eyed the corrupted elf over the rim of his tankard.

"I'm going to my room." I turned to him, giving him a smile. "I'm tired and it's a little late."

"Okay. Stay safe." He nodded to me and turned back to Melandryn.

Keeping a watch on the tall, blue elf out of the corner of my eye I exited the Lounge and made my way along the purple cobbles towards the Alliance inn. Night was just falling. The air was crisp and fresh, a delight to my senses as I breathed it in. The worgen guards nodded as I passed over the threshold, going back to their watch, ears and noses twitching, their slightly unnerving eyes sharp.

Isimari Fairwind gave me a smile and a wave from her place at the front bar. I returned the gestures, suddenly realising how hungry I was. As I passed by the tables, I could smell the intoxicating array of dishes, mostly stews and roasts, wafting from the rowdy rabble of adventurers.

"Welcome." The blue-eyed elf greeted when I reached the bar. "I suppose you would like your dinner?"

"Oh, yes please." I said, "I'm so hungry I could eat a horse."

She laughed, turning to a pretty brunette who was passing by the bar.

"Marcella, could you go into the kitchen and ask Cook for a dinner? Thank you."

The woman nodded and turned down into the arch on the right hand side of the room, behind the bar. I pulled up a stool and sat, fishing out coinage for the payment of the meal. Isimari took the money, pulling out her ever-present ledger and documented the transaction.

My toes wriggled inside my boots and I gently tapped the countertop as I waited for my dinner, keeping myself occupied by humming to the tune of "Seven Drunken Nights," under my breath.

It took all the way until Saturday for the food to cook but it was certainly well worth the wait. Shorter a time than I expected as well, actually. I took the stew and thanked the barmaid, now stuck with the choice to eat down here or up in my room.

'Well I might as well eat down here.' I reasoned internally, scouring the area for a free table or seat.

I caught sight of a very familiar blue-skinned, snow-haired Draenei chatting with a short, stout dwarf who sported a beard so impressive I'd say Odin would have been jealous. Mordaan had since shed his heavy plate and was dressed in his more relaxed leathers. The dwarf, however, sat covered nearly head to toe in chainmail. Stocky pauldrons weighted his shoulders and a circlet kept his fiery red hair from falling into his face. I saw a large blunderbuss leaning against his chair.

Carefully, so as to not bump into anybody or spill my food, I navigated through the rabble. It surely was noisy and lively here, even with a small crowd. Mordaan looked up as I approached, a welcoming smile stretching its way across his broad face.

"Aoibheann." He boomed, stretching his arms out in salutation. "Archenon poros, friend." He gestured to the empty chair beside him, "come, sit. You don't mind, Horgar?" He asked the dwarf.

The dwarf grunted, more interested in his stew than what was going on around him. I gladly sat when given a nod by Mordaan. The stew was as good as yesterday's. While I dug in, Mordaan wasted no time in quizzing me about my day, especially my new haircut. When I told him what happened, his face darkened.

"I never fully trusted that Alysria," he growled, clenching his fist around his flagon of beer. "The Blood Elves are only loyal to their own. They may claim to be Horde or Neutral but in the end, they'll end any who comes between themselves and their own."

"Elves? Bah!" Horgar spat, gulping down his drink. He sloppily wiped his beard and pointed a stubby finger at me. "You listen here Lass, no matter what type, an elf will always bring you nothing but trouble. Arrogant, good-for-nothing, egotistical, knife-ear…" He trailed off, the rest of his rant turning into unintelligible burbles.

"You're too cynical, Horgar." Mordaan said, watching the grumpy man complain, smiling. "Have a little faith."

"Faith?" The tankard was slammed against the tale top, making me jump slightly. "Don't you go starting on yer 'The Light will save you,' rubbish. You Draenei put too much faith into yer singing crystals and blasted Light. Sometimes I think yer blinded by it all."

Mordaan sighed. It appeared, from the way they continued, that this was a common occurrence. I sat playing with the remains of my food, feeling drowsy, but restless. An idea came to mind.

"Say, Mordaan." I inquired. The big man turned to me.

"Yes?"

"Could you, perhaps, teach me how to fight well enough so that I don't die when I go down to the Broken Isles?"

The draenei blinked his white, glowing eyes. "Why would you need that? I've seen you fight. You have the basic skills. Besides, you have us to protect you."

"What about today?" I protested. This was going down the same way as the conversation with Fenrich went. "I lost my hair. I could very well lose my life the next time."

"You shouldn't be in a situation that dire in the first place." He placed a gargantuan hand on my arm, silencing me before I could snap back at him. "The only reason that I could see for why you would need to fight at that level is if you were staying here for good." He glanced sideways at the dwarf who had hefted his gun and hobbled out of the inn. Once he was out of sight Mordaan spoke again. "Hopefully you won't be here long enough for anything too heated to happen."

My eyebrows drew together in a scowl. "I haven't made any progress yet." I muttered, brushing his hand off and crossing my arms. "Besides, it's always good to prepare for any situation, right? I do want to go home, I just haven't found even a clue as to how I managed to get here."

Mordaan studied me, narrowing his eyes and stroking his chin.

"I'd like to ask you a question." He rumbled, looking thoughtful.

"Go ahead." I shrugged. "I'm all ears."

"I don't wish to offend by saying this," he paused, seeming to frame what he wanted to say before continuing. "Are you completely sure you want to go home?"

I opened my mouth aghast. Where the feck did he get this from? Of course I wanted to go home. Home was all I ever knew, all I had. I missed it, if I was perfectly honest.

'But to whom would you be going?' A slippery voice whispered. 'You were disowned and disavowed by your family, remember? Where would you go if you managed to get back? How would you support yourself? Where would you live?' I covered my nose and mouth with my hands, propping my elbows on the table. 'The most likely outcome is you wandering around Carlow, digging through rubbish bins and melting your brain with a bottle. You're far too proud to go on the Dole.'

I shook my head, dismissing the thoughts. I absolutely, definitely wanted to go home. It was my whole purpose for coming to Dalaran and sticking with the group in the first place.

"Yes." I turned my eyes to the Draenei who was still analysing my behaviour. "Of course I want to return. It's all I have."

He scrutinised me a little more before letting the issue drop. I yawned, rubbing my cheeks.

"I'm going to head off to bed." I said sleepily, my eyes drooping. "Thanks for letting me sit here."

"No worries." He waved over a barmaid and plucked a fresh flagon from the tray. "I'll see you."

"Bye."

I stood, slightly shaky and shuffled through the now increasing crowd of adventurers and heroes-for-hire, slogging my way up the stairs to my room where the promise of a warm bed and sweet sleep awaited. So sleepy was I that I failed to notice the shadowed figure leaning by my door. I walked straight past them, nearly trying to walk through the door while I was at it.

"You're going to have to open it first, dumpling." The harsh, echoic baritone chuckled to my left.

I leaped backwards with a screech, slamming into the opposite wall and clutching my heart, my hand shakily pointing at the now smirking Illidari who raised an amused eyebrow.

"Jesus Christ, man, have mercy." I gasped, my chest heaving with shock. "You nearly scared the life out of me. Announce your presence at least before you talk to someone."

"And here I thought you were an observant person." He sighed, flipping a coin.

"Hey, I'm tired." I scowled, tentatively moving back to my door. "It's a legit excuse too. You never know the things people get up to when they're tired."

"I'm sure," he murmured.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" I asked suspiciously. "You're not here for that debt are you? 'Cos no way in Hell am I going to give you, uh, _that_ as a payment."

He caught the gold circle, closing his fist around it. I felt my breath catch in my throat as he tilted his head to the left, those lazy eyes burning through me. In the half-light of the hallway he looked even more mysterious, more alluring. His lips pulled outwards in a suggestive grin when he noticed my stare.

"Like what you see, dumpling?" He hummed, now studying me.

"Pssht." I huffed, turning back and turning the doorknob. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight - Eeiiiiii!"

A clawed finger tickled the back of my neck, playing with the short strands of my hair. Completely ruffled by the action I glared accusingly at the elf.

"What happened to your hair, dumpling?" He asked, toying with a curl near my temple. "You had it all when I left you last night."

My jaw worked in anger at his statement.

"Oh yeah," I said sarcastically, smacking his hand away. "You pulled a juvenile prank on me and left me to freeze in the rain."

"Hah!" He laughed, straightening. "It looks like my brother came and saved you in the nick of time." He gestured to my short bob. "Well, most of you."

I saw his mouth twist at the mention of the word 'brother,' making me pause in opening the door.

"How did you know he was coming?" I narrowed my eyes. "You didn't tell him beforehand or anything, did you?"

"No." He responded absently. "I can see things normally invisible to the naked eye."

"Ooooh," I teased, waving my hands. "How cryptic and mysterious. How old are you again, because I really don't think that you're old enough to be spouting Zen stuff like that yet."

"Don't believe me?" He narrowed his eyes behind the blindfold.

"No." I gulped, suddenly nervous.

"Hmmmm." He folded his arms and leaned sideways against the wall, those fiery eyes fixing on me. I felt that same feeling from the night before, as though he was looking straight through me. He smirked. "Nice underwear."

My face flamed. Automatically my hands shot out to cover myself even though I was fully clothed.

"W-what?" I squeaked, "The feck are you on about? No way can you see under my clothes. That's physically impossible!"

"They're a nice shade of," he leaned in, his face right in front of mine. "Black."

My hands clenched into fists. I opened the door, shaking with anger. Just before I stepped in, I jabbed at him with my left fist, hoping to land a solid before shutting the door in his face.

Of course, that's what I thought would happen.

He ducked under my fist and rugby-tackled me into my room, with me yelling until I hit the ground with an undignified 'oof.' I huffed, pushing against his chest to get him off of me, but he wouldn't budge.

"What are you playing at?" I hissed, wriggling my hips to try to nab him with my knee. "Get off me, you horny bollix!"

He grabbed both of my hands and pinned them beside my head, then put my legs in a weird lock with his own as he straddled me.

"What's the magic word?" He teased, pressing down on me with his weight.

"Um, please?" I said, still struggling.

He released me and I darted out from underneath him as soon as the pressure lifted. He raised an eyebrow at my Speedy Gonzales retreat but didn't say anything. I watched, stunned, as he walked over, crouching in front of me. I shrank back, wary.

"You know, I couldn't help but overhear that you were having trouble in finding an instructor for basic self-defence." He pulled a knife from his boot, spinning the blade in his fingers. "If you're interested, I could teach you. My definition of 'Basic Training,' is somewhat different to the mainstream interpretation."

"You, you would do that?" I felt hope flutter in my heart, quickly followed by suspicion. "Wait, what do you get out of it? There's no way you'd agree to do it for free."

"Oh, I'll decide soon enough." He tweaked my nose.

"Ouch!"

"So, yes or no?"

I sat silently. Here was a chance for me to be of some use with the others, and I'd probably be able to take those skills back with m for when I went home. It altogether sounded like a sound deal. I met eyes with him, nodding. He held his hand out.

"Deal?"

"Deal."

We shook hands. His hand, twice the size of my own, easily engulfed mine.

"Meet me tomorrow on Krasus' Landing at dusk." He said, releasing my hand and standing. "Don't be late, or I'll come and find you."

I shivered at the hidden animosity in his tone, shakily getting to my own feet. I nodded, turning to sit on the bed and take off my boots. His wrapped feet barely made a whisper on the stone floor of my room as he crossed to the door, giving me one last burning look before crossing the threshold and closing it. As soon as he was out of sight I immediately stopped fiddling with my laces and clutched at my pounding heart.

'What the Hell have I just agreed to?'

Melandryn had an air to him, not the tomcat type of Faeldryn. No, the Illidari felt more deadly, more unpredictable. I'd found it awkward and jarring enough to speak with him those couple of times, yet here I'd just gone and agreed to spend God knows how long practicing how to knife-fight with him. As if he didn't scare me enough.

"God help me," I whispered, re-working my boots and massaging my feet once they were free. "I seriously need to find a mage to help me."

My mind wandered to the grey-robed man I'd seen this morning. What was his name, Khadgar? He seemed pretty powerful, important as well from the way the High Priest had spoken about him.

'If I could see him, he'll surely know what to do.'

Yes. That's my goal. I would train until I was well enough to stand on my own in the Isles, I'd kill any demons I came across and I'd find a way to prove myself enough that I'd be granted an audience with the Archmage. Then he'd listen to my problem and help to get me home. A smile spread across my face in excitement.

For the first time in two weeks, I felt like I was getting somewhere. I stripped my clothes off and pulled on the linen nightie before brushing my hair, saying a few prayers and settling into bed. I still wondered why I even bothered with my morning and nightly prayers. They'd never been answered, no matter how hard I'd pleaded. I suppose it was just habit and it kind of settled my mind.

Tomorrow seemed promising.

 _ **.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.**_

Oh dear. I seem to have neglected this a little. Ehehehe. My deepest apologies for the long wait. Quite a bit of stuff has been going on in real life which demanded my attention like an angry toddler and I couldn't afford to ignore it. I managed to write bits and pieces here and there but because the formation was so disjointed, I had to also re-write it in a few places to make everything fit.

As always, please tell me what you think. If you feel some of the characters don't quite fit or that there are continuity errors, please feel free to point them out and I hope you enjoyed this latest edition of Aoibheann's voyage.


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